Heroes are Made
by Naya Zephronic
Summary: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. A young Dalish girl's journey to unite Fereldan against the blight and achieve greatness with the help of a strange band of friends and the trust placed in her by the Warden Commander Duncan. DA:O Novelization. Zevran/F!Mahariel
1. Chapter 1

Like a breeze they moved through the forest, their steps light and silent as shadow. The buck they were tracking was unaware of its impending doom, but its meet would go far in the clan, its hide, its antlers and even its bones would find use among the Dalish. Of course all creatures feared death, a fact of living, but the hunters would be sure to make its end painless and quick. Bow strings where taunt in their hands, just a moment longer and…

The massive male deer's head shot up, ears twitching before it bolted. "What in the name of..?" Lyna began, letting the bow slip back into a relaxed position her unused arrow sliding back into the quiver on her back. Her companion hushed her gently with a light touch on her arm, his gaze drifting in the direction the buck had turned. Without a word they drifted towards whatever it was that had spooked their quarry and before long their sensitive elven ears caught the sounds of voices.

Humans. _Shemlen_; Quick Children. Three men wandering far closer to their camp then any Dalish would be comfortable with. The barest of nods where shared between the two hunters before they faded off in opposite directions; they had been side by side for years and knew what the other was thinking without the need to voice it.

The _shemlen_ needed to be shown _out_ of the forest.

The three men jabbered between each other, alternating between mumbled words, slightly too loud exclamations and frantic hushing. Lyra wondered from their strange behavior if they'd known how close they'd gotten to the Dalish camp. They did seem excited about something. Maybe they were off to tell their town or their masters that Dalish were near. Lyna felt a growl in her throat. Humans, their souls where poisoned with greed and they probably expected to make some coin off the information.

Two arrows dug into the ground by the men's feet and they screeched in panic, running off. The huntress grinned, not as rewarding as a buck, but at least the hunt was on.

Like cattle they ran, Lyna easily pacing them from the trees, arrows smacking the ground to herd them on their way when they strayed a little too far. Didn't these humans realize if she truly wished them dead, they would be? Those first shots would never have missed if she was actually aiming for them. The humans crashed through the forest like only humans could, no animal would ever make such a racket, even in chase and no animal would fall so easily off the side of a hill.

Lucky for the _shemlens_ it was a small hill. Not so luckily, her partner waited there for them, arrows drawn and bow taunt.

"It's a Dalish!" One shouted rather rhetorically, his gaze turning to Lyna as she slid in besides her partner, her own bow trained on them.

"Look Lethallan, bandits in the woods." Tamlen growled, the point of his arrow twitching when one of the three made too sudden a movement.

"Honest Dalish. We didn't mean no harm, we didn't know these forest were yours." One of the humans pleaded, his common laced with a thick accent and poor grammar of only the remote and poor.

"These forests are not ours; you've come too close to our camp Shem'." The reply came like the strike of a viper.

"We was just looking for some treasure, that's all."

"Treasure?" Lyna asked, her voice much sweeter than the grunts and growls of her companion. "Where would you find treasures in a forest?"

"There are these ruins you see." The humans quivered, shuffling slightly in her direction; obviously she was the nice one. "Off to the east, honest there are, you can see them for yourself."

Tamlen never took his eyes off the three, and inclined his head in her direction. "So you are more akin to thieves not bandits. What say you Lethallan, what do we do with them?"

Lyna rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Tamlen and she shared very different ideas about the _shemlen_, and he knew that all too well. While Tamlen was content to kill them and be done with it, Lyna never liked such corporal punishment and preferred to show kindness. They never saw eye to eye on the subject. The fact that he was leaving the decision to her might mean that he didn't want to fight with her and she had an idea why.

She was so frustrated with Tamlen; from his brother's lips she'd learned of his plan to ask her to bond with him and the thought nearly made her blush pink. She loved him for years and hoped dearly that he would ask. Lyna had given him more than enough opportunity, Creators; she was blowing off Master Ilen to be here even now.

The thing was they'd never even shared a kiss.

Maybe Feneral was playing a prank on her.

Lyna bit her lip hard, the Dread Wolf take Fenarel if he was; she'd serve him up to Fen'Harel herself it that was the case.

With a sigh, knowing he wouldn't like it, Lyna shook her head. "Let them go, they've done no harm and it'll only fall back on us if we hurt them."

"You're too soft, Lethallan." Yes well, she thought with a huff, it was his fault for asking for her opinion. The grateful looks on the humans' faces where enough to tell her she'd made the right call. With a motion of his bow, Tamlen bid the humans off. "Run back to your village, and do not return to these woods until we Dalish have moved on." He threatened and the three quite wisely scattered.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, Tamlen obviously trying to decide if he should be regretting bending to Lyna's whim by letting the _shemlen_ go. She watched the nit in his tattooed brow for long enough before sighing, breaking the silence.

"That's for future Tamlen to deal with." Lyna added helpfully, with a quirky smile that made her companion laugh and shake his head. Of course she knew what he was thinking, there was little that they could hide from each other. "Do you want to go back to camp?"

Tamlen seemed to ponder the idea for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I think we should check out these ruins first, there might be something valuable."

"I still think it might be better to return to the Keeper with the news first."

"If we go back now and there are nothing fruitful in the ruins, then the Keeper will probably punish us for wasting the clan's time. Or did you forget why I was out here in the first place."

An exasperated sigh passed Lyna's lips. She couldn't force the issue now; their relationship was give and take after all and unfortunately that meant it was her turn to give into his will. "Alright, alright. But just long enough to see what's about."

A slightly proud looking smirk crossed his lips and he motioned her in the general easterly direction. "Lead on Lethallan."

They found the ruins quiet easily. Too easily, to Lyna's taste. "Has this been here before? I would swear we've been around this area."

"Maybe a landslide opened it up." Tamlen replied absently slipping his lithe body down through the hole and into the vast cavern beyond.

"I'm not so sure…" Lyna replied, sliding in after him and landing gracefully on her feet.

"Or maybe something in these old stone walls gave way and opened up the path." The hunter added, this one seemed slightly more plausible and casting discerning gaze towards the opening they'd just passed and the theory seemed to solidify.

The ruins seemed empty, but they were not devoid of life.

Whatever possessed the Creators in their infinite wisdom to make giant spiders, Lyna will never understand. It's not that she didn't like spiders, well she didn't, but the little ones she could handle and their only folly was to crawl into boots at night. Spiders however got progressively bigger ranging in sizes from fist size, to bird-eating.

And then there were the Giant Spiders.

"_Ar isala'din_." She growled stabbing a dagger into the swollen abdomen of the last spider in the latest group that attacked them. "Giant Spiders. I hate them."

Tamlen chuckled under his breath. "I bet there are bigger ones, somewhere out there."

"_Elgar'nan,_ with my luck their probably are!" She gasped throwing her hands up in the air. "Monstrous Spiders bigger than this room! I just hope someone is creative enough to not just call them Monstrous. That wouldn't do these things justice, I wouldn't settle for less than 'Horrifyingly Monstrous Spider'. Maybe I used up my bad luck with just their existence, if I actually had to fight one I might just quit."

Tamlen leaned against the stone wall, his hand on his stomach from laughter from her rambling, granted she wasn't half as bad as poor little Merrill. When the First began rambling it was like her mind drifted off as her lips kept moving, at least Lyna knew when and how to rein it in. This place had her on edge even before they faced the pack of spiders. She could see it in Tamlen too, and was glad she could ease his worry even for a moment.

"Come on; let's see what else might be here."

Tamlen chuckled. "I thought you wanted to go back and tell the Keeper."

"Oh Lethallin, I'm not completely devoid of curiosity. Besides, we _are _already here."

Lyna was the first to find something of note, mostly because she'd turned right when Tamlen had gone the other way. They hadn't noticed the statue standing off to the side, probably because of the pleasant distraction of grotesquely over-sized spiders, but there was something vaguely familiar about it.

"Tamlen, do you know what this is?"

Her partner frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest in thought. "It's one of the Elven pantheons; I recognize it from one of the books the Keeper never lets us read."

"And you got a hold of this book how?" Lyna asked a quizzical look shot in his direction.

"Merrill?" The reply was sheepish.

"Tamlen! You're going to get her in trouble!"

"She didn't get blamed..." Tamlen tried to defend himself, touching his head to his heart, a Dalish motion for surrender. His eyes were elsewhere however, and he went on. "But, these ruins look human, what would our gods be doing in a human building?" Lyna could only frown and shrug. None of the answers that came to mind seem plausible.

They turned their attention back to the empty room, scouring it for clues. The floor had wide open holes, but it wasn't safe to try to descend deeper without fear of being trapped below. The two hunters decided it was best to keep their explorations to the main floor and leave any deeper diving to those that would be prepared for such a task.

For a while it seemed like there was no more of interest. There was another large chamber, equally infested with spiders as the last had been, but Lyna found nothing of note. She was about to ask him to turn back when Tamlen suddenly sucked in a breath.

"Lyna! This is… written Elvish."

"How do you- Right book. But now I'm more confused than ever, there hasn't been written word since Elvhenan… Could this place really be that old?" Not to mention they were very far south from the ancient Elven homeland. It didn't make sense to either of them. Almost like random bits of the past had been spewed into these halls by something.

"I am beginning to have a bad feeling about this place… it almost seems wrong."

Lyna rolled her eyes. Now he got the bad feeling. She's been having one this entire time. "There is only one room we've not checked, should we go back?"

"No, one last room." He paused a moment, staring at her heavily and it froze her in place. "You were supposed to be helping Master Ilen… why are you here with me, Lethallan?"

Lyna could only smile faintly, unable to keep his gaze. "Why do you think? To be with you." She replied. Maybe Fenarel was right. Maybe he would ask.

"I… thought as much." Tamlen replied shuffling nervously. "I'm glad…"

Lyna could kick herself. She wouldn't, she'd much rather kick Feneral, but she could. They said nothing after that. The corridors were silent, only echoing their foot falls as they walked. One last door loomed before them. Tamlen moved to shove open the door.

Lyna realized too late it was a trap.

She yelped at him to stop, but the chocking smog already filled the small passage. They both gagged and pulled backwards. Something was wrong and both her blades fell into her hands and crossed above her just in time to block the downward swing of her attacker.

Long dead flesh hung from aged bone. Its hallow gaze locked on her. Rotten teeth opened, and hissed at her. With a cry of shock she kicked out, her boot shattering the fragile ribs in the thing's chest.

It looked down with what could only be mild annoyance as it stumbled back and was on her again.

She parried a blow, twisting behind the skeletal creature; it took her far too long to realize what it was and went to stab it in the back.

Of course, the thing was already dead and had no lung or heart to puncture.

Lyna growled in frustration, hooking the thing's leg against hers and slammed it on the back with the pummel of her dagger, knocking it forward. The blade in her other hand came up as it went down and its head tumbled free. For a moment she was afraid that wouldn't be enough, that it would continue to stand and fight until it was in hundreds of pieces on the floor.

It didn't. "Tamlen! The head!" She warned or tried to, but the miasma was in her lungs and cut her words off in a cough. Tamlen had taken off the arm of another of the undead only to have it switch its sword hand and face him again. His shield smacked into the thing's chest, shattering old and brittle bones into a million pieces. That stopped the attack too.

The third and final skeleton fell to his sword, falling down to the ground nearly cleaved in two. They both fell against the wall, panting hard to regain lung function as the cloud of gas finally dissipated. Tamlen's eyes were as wide as she'd ever seen them, and she had a feeling her expression mirrored his.

"Living dead-" He coughed, "Dark magic."

Their reprieve was short lived as something slammed against the door they had attempted to enter. Lyna and Tamlen both slid the bows off their back, watching as stone and wood crack and splintered under the force of the thing on the other side.

The old wood gave way a moment later.

The creature wasn't like anything Lyna has ever seen. It looked like a bear, or had once been. Its body was covered in vicious spines that looked as if they'd erupted spontaneously from beneath its skin. Blood dribbled down its coat in rivers plastering the fur in thick clumps. The smell was noxious and indescribable and it was almost a blessing to the two hunters that they could not yet breathe well. Two arrows hit the corrupted bear on either side of its neck but it shook them off without flinching. Lyna was forced to duck and roll, dropping her bow completely her daggers snapping to her grip. Six inch claws swung for her face, but she was too quick and behind the creature Tamlen smacked a shield into its flank, knocking it off balance and drawing its attention.

The two hunters had worked together for years. They knew each other's thoughts and tactics. Tamlen buffed a blow from those wicked claws with his shield and Lyna was there in an instant to deal a wicked wound to the tender flesh exposed by the creature's reach. It would turn to regard her and it would be Tamlen's turn to deal a devastating wound to its exposed flank.

The beast was formidable, but after what felt like a life time it let out a grunted cry and slumped to the floor.

The hunters breathed in relief Lyna stumbling a bit from a miscalculated claw mark on her leg as she went to retrieve her bow. Her gaze drifted to the beast they'd just felled. What was this thing? It wasn't natural whatever it was. She was about to ask Tamlen when she realized he was not at her side.

Lyna found him in the room were the beast had come. Before him was a massive mirror, eerily pristine in the dilapidated condition of the ruins it called home.

"Can you see it?" Tamlen asked, climbing the short steps to where the mirror sat. "There it is again!"

Lyna saw nothing, though she stared into the reflective surface. No, that was wrong, this mirror did not reflect, she realized as she approached. "Tamlen I-"

"There's a whole city… underground… I can see…" He whispered under his breath reaching his fingers brushing the mirror's surface. "I… I can't look away! It's got me! Lyna! _Help_!"

She took a step.

It was all that was given to her.

A bright light seared her eyes and she was vaguely aware of screaming Tamlen's name.

A sensation of falling and then nothing.

* * *

Ar isala'din_: I need (this) not. Or; I don't need this.  
– An attempt to make sentences out of the fracture that is elven language. _

Elgar'nan:_ Elven God of Vengeance._

_Dragon Age Origin Play though because it's just short of a self-insertion and everyone is doing it! I fell very much in love with my sweet loving warden from Petrichor and Applewood, and couldn't let her sit in silence in that one drabble. So here it is! As far as content go, it's more about characterization then story, simply because we all know how the story goes and I will endeavor to not regurgitate game dialogue unless absolutely necessary. _

_I hope you all enjoy!_


	2. Chapter 2

_The ruins closed in around her. Monsters surrounded her; black and haggard things with cruel faces. They reached out with vile claws tearing at the pale flesh of her arms as she tried to fend them off. A bow! A sword! Anything! She begged for a weapon and found no answer to her desperate prayer. _

_She tried to out run the evil of the creatures, but they hounded her as she fled, frightened like she'd never been before. The world was a blur; her body sluggish to her mind's commands like slowing magic had been cast on her. Stones and trees reached out with horrid claws and gnashing teeth to stop her. Somehow she evaded them too. Lyna thought they had gone. Thought maybe she'd escaped them, until she fell._

_They were on top of her before she hit the ground, gouging her flesh, bent on dragging her off, alive or dead. She flailed weakly screaming for help, for anyone._

_For Tamlen._

"Can you hear me?" _A voice broke, her vision was swimming and she could not make out who spoke. In fear and desperation, she tried to fight this new monster off, but she was so tired and if she managed to cause any arm, she would never know. _"I'm so sorry."

_Her world sank into blissful blackness._

She awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. Her whole body ached and she groaned in pain. Someone's arm went around her shoulder and she gratefully leaned against their chest, not caring in the slightest to whom it belonged. Birds chirped overhead. A campfire burned somewhere nearby and she could smell the thick medicine scent of healing herbs and poultices that clung to the healing tents no matter how long they were aired out.

Lyna was back at camp.

Whoever she leaned on smelt of wood; oak, leather and the oil used to care for the clan's metal works. "Tamlen?" She mumbled wearily, earning a saddened chuckle from whoever kept her from falling off the cot.

"Sorry Lethallan, It's just me." It was Fenarel, she realized far too slowly, Tamlen's twin brother. She couldn't help but smile at the irony, was she not just cursing the younger elf a few hours ago? "You've been sick for days…"

Okay, maybe no hours ago.

"The keeper wanted me to tell her when you've woken up." Lyna slurred something in reply; it was unintelligible to her own ears, but apparently her lips where in better working order. He laid her back down gently and vanished leaving her staring up at the sky. She desperately wanted to go back to sleep, her body throbbing in dull pain, but Lyna feared if she did she wouldn't awaken for another several days. As it was, time seemed to crawl around her and while it couldn't have been more than a few minutes it felt like hours before Fenarel returned with the keeper.

"How do you feel _Dal'en_?" Marethari asked, sitting next to her and placing a gentle hand on her shouldered, waving Fenarel away.

"In a word, horrible." Lyna replied with a pained laughed that drifted into a soft sigh as the Keeper's healing magic washed over her. She was able to sit up on her own this time. "How did I get back to camp? Did the hunter's find me? What of Tamlen, is he alright?"

The Keeper looked pensive, and Lyra's heart sank even before she began speaking. "You were found outside a cave by a human, but he saw no sign of Tamlen."

"A human?" She echoed, truly shocked by such an act. "We chased off some humans from the nearby village that had gotten too close, is he from there?"

"No… this man is a Grey Warden named Duncan." Lyna heard of a Grey Warden and wondered why one was in these forests, but there were more pressing matters. "You were very sick _Dal'en_, it took a great deal of magic to heal you. Tell me anything you can remember, we might still be able to find Tamlen. If he was as sick as you…" The Keeper trailed off and Lyra did her best to recount the whole experience properly, but her memory was still a bit fuzzy and it seem like the time spent in the ruins blurred with her fever dreams.

"There was a strange creature Keeper, besides the walking skeletons; it looked something like a bear, but covered in its own blood and spines."

"I've never heard of such a creature, but the skeletons are a mark of dark magic." Marethari frowned in thought. "Do you think you're well enough to bring Merrill to these ruins?"

"Of course, Keeper." It was a lie, but Lyna wouldn't sit in a sick bed while others looked for Tamlen.

"Please be quick _dal'en,_" The keeper added mournfully. "The clan will be moving on as soon as we can; the humans of the town nearby have become agitated with us."

"But Keeper, we didn't harm them!" Lyna gasped. She'd been sure the humans would let them be if they didn't harm them. It seemed just chasing them away from camp was enough of an insult to the _shemlen._

"I know, but it didn't matter to them." Marethari left her then with instructions to find Merrill when she was ready to undertake the journey back to the ruins. Lyna sighed, shifting to rest her face in her hands.

"Lethallan, I'd like to come with you." Fenarel's voice drifted from behind the sick tent. Obviously he'd been listening in on everything.

She was silent for a long while. In her mind she recited the creed of Andruil to calm herself; _Vir Assan, Vir Bor'assan, Vir adahlen_. Never waver, bend but do not break, together you are strong. They would find Tamlen; she wouldn't rest until they did. The first step would be to return to the ruins and search for clues maybe even find the _shemlen_ that found her, as much as she disliked the idea of asking a human for help he may be willing to help again. Merrill and Fenarel would help her, and it was comforting to know she could find strength in her friends and her clan.

Her chest felt heavy. Why did she feel so defeated? It must be this sickness she had, but she wouldn't let it stop her. Lyna was stronger than that.

"Have you asked the Keeper?" Her reply was muffled by her hands; she hadn't picked her head up to actually look at him. She couldn't. Fenarel and Tamlen had been twins after all; the only large difference between them was Tamlen's rarer blue eyes and Fenarel's slightly darker blonde hair. The two brothers had joked for weeks before acquiring their _vallaslin_ that they'd probably end up with the same patterns although speaking of it before the ritual was forbidden. Luckily, the Creators had finally seen fit to split the brothers; they'd been mistaken from a distance for each other far too many times already.

Her fingers brushed lightly over the _vallaslin _of her own face. The mark of the tattoos were faint, her skin was far too pale for the darker reds and blacks that her clansmen sometimes took. Lyna's curled up her forehead like the majestically carved and swirling horns of a halla. The marks came down the bone of her nose, stopping just before the tip in a point. Had she wished, Lyna could have extended the pattern under her eyes and on her chin, but she felt no need to. It was hard to say which of the gods her marking honored, the Dalish elves knew so little of their own gods and those they did were silent to them. It was up to the Dalish to decide whose guidance they would follow.

Don't tell the _shemlen _that though, let them think they actually have meaning.

"No, but Tamlen is my brother. I cannot sit by and wait for someone else to find him." Fenarel replied with a huff. As if she'd deny him the opportunity, but Lyna didn't need any more trouble falling on her shoulders then she already had.

"Ask." She replied pulling her hair out of its matted bun and braid, her fingers working though days' worth of tangles. "The keeper won't deny you that. I'm going to visit Ashalle and then see Merrill, meet me there." She didn't see him nod his acceptance or walk off. Her hair tamed as much as it could be with fingers alone, Lyna took to her feet moving slowly though the clan, ignoring the concerned looks from those who saw her.

Lyna only wanted Ashalle.

The elderly Dalish woman was joined by a small group of the clan by a small fire. Lyna stumbled in, looking pitifully sad, she knew and Ashalle quickly drew her in to a comforting hug. "There, there _dal'en_… It is so good to see you well, I was so worried…"

Ashalle was not her mother. Lyna always knew this, but she was the closest thing to blood she had in the clan. She knew her mother had been from another clan, and her father had been the pervious keeper, but beyond that no one in the clan was willing to add.

"What of Tamlen?" Lyna didn't answer for a long time and the elder woman mumbled softly in her ears and she soaked in the comfort that Ashalle was always there to provide.

"The hunters will find him, _emm'asha, _don't you worry now. I know how much the two of you care of each other…" The woman mumbled soothingly, rubbing her back in the way a mother would and sighed. "I had hoped… no, never mind. Tragedy seems to fallow you, doesn't it? You're Parents…" Ashalle trailed off with a sigh.

Lyna pulled free from the woman's embrace. "You never speak much of them, Ashalle."

"There is already enough heartache and suffering in the lives of the Dalish without adding more to it. The clan thought it best not to speak of them, reopening old wounds benefits no one." Her surrogate mother replied with a sad frown, but Lyna was tired of not knowing.

"I've seen nearly 17 years, Ashalle, and I am an adult in the eyes of the clan… I… I almost died. Would it be fair for me to go on not knowing?" She didn't want to force it out of the woman she cared so much about, but Lyna needed to know, if for nothing more than the sake of knowing.

Ashalle shook her head, but was smiling. "You received your _vallaslin_ early so that you would not still be seen as a child when Tamlen and Fenarel had acquired theirs, and you put up a terrible fit to do so." Lyna smiled sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders, but didn't deny the fact. "But, you're right."

At Ashalle's bidding, the two women took a seat by the small fire. "Your Father was the Keeper of the Sabrae clan before Marethari, Yes? Well, He fell in love with a huntress from another clan, one of the finest, but her elders did not approve of the match. So they met in secret. … One day they were caught by bandits alone in the forest. Your father was killed, but your mother escaped."

"…Humans… killed my parents?"

"Y-yes… But also city elves." Ashalle replied with a frown. The way her voice quivered, Lyna almost believe it was a lie, almost, but it eased the sting in her heart just a bit, and that was enough to let it go. "The clan found her, and she held on to life long enough to give birth to you. But, she was wracked by grief over the loss of your father. One night… she walked off into the moonlight and never returned."

Another sting to Lyna's heart, and her head hung silently. Had she not been important enough to her mother that she would just abandon her new born daughter? It hurt to think such things. She tried to turn it around in her head; that her mother loved her father so much, she couldn't go on living without him.

But the little voice in her mind chanted on; _Am I not worthy of love too?_

"I… don't know what to say." Lyna mumbled numbly. "I did ask and I didn't not expect a happy story, considering."

"We did not wish to poison your heart with sadness, _emma'asha,_ this is why we never told you. Your mother did leave you a gift, your father gave it to her, and she wished you to have it." Removing a chain from around her neck, Ashalle gently took Lyna's hand and pressed a key into her palm. "If you wish to see it, there is an old crate by the keeper's tent that once belonged to her. It is yours now."

"I'm taking Fenarel and Merrill back to the ruins; we are going to try to find Tamlen."

"_Dareth, emm'asha._" Lyna nodded slowly and left. For a moment she thought of just throwing the key away and forgetting about it all, but the need to see was stronger. It was easy enough to find the old locked chest. It had been well cared for, but it showed its age compared to the crates around it. The key slid in easily and the lid popped open. She shuffled mindlessly though the old leathers and fabrics within, half moth-eaten, they served only to protect other contents. Her hands stumbled on a small wooden box, carved beautifully with the mark of Anduril.

Within was a necklace. Hundreds of small, hand carved beads wound around another, each depicting an animal; deer, hawks, wolves, hares. They chased each other in an endless circle. Her father had given this to her mother. He must have carved each of those beads himself, _hundreds _of them, a tear sprung to her eye and she wiped it away.

Lyna clasped the necklace around her neck, touching it fondly and vehemently crushed any doubts she had about her parents. She refused to think about it anymore, at least not until her head was cooler. It was time to find Merrill.

The First wasn't hard to find. She was a bubbly little thing, always smiling and rambling endlessly. It was as if all the bad in the world stopped at Merrill, said 'Nah.' and walked away. "Are you _sure_ the Keeper said it was okay? I don't want to get in any trouble brining you along."

Lyna sighed as Fenarel tried to lie; it seemed no one in the clan was capable of it today. "Its fine Merrill, I asked her." She told the younger elf with a straight face. Merrill blinked a few times and then nodded slowly.

"Well, if the keeper says it's okay." From behind Merrill Fenarel gave her a questioning look, and Lyna gave Merrill a smile that was really meant for him.

"Can we get going now? I want to get back quickly and sleep for a week." The other two laughed faintly and they headed off. It didn't take Lyna long to find the area where she and Tamlen had found the _shemlen_ hours- no, days- before. From there it was a short trek to the east to find the cave. At least, it was intended to be.

Something pricked at Lyna sense, made her falter in her steps. Before either of her companions could ask, a creature hissed ominously before them. It was a twisted thing, short with molted skin and strangely dressed in armor. A wicked grin crossed its face as it brandished a small hand axe swinging it above its head in a roaring battle cry before charging at them. From behind it three more twisted things stood; they were taller, bringing bows before them.

Lyna sent an arrow into the shoulder of one who had trained on Merrill before her daggers snapped to her hands and she blocked the blow from her first attacker. The things only seemed to have basic intelligence, though it seemed strange when taking into account they could fire bows with impressive skill, but between Merrill's magic, Fenarel's arrows and her sword skills they fell to the three Dalish without consequence.

"What were those things?" Fenarel gasped, turning to the other two for an answer. Neither Lyna nor Merrill had an answer for him.

Merrill looked slightly fearful and Lyna could only shake her head. "We should move on…"

"Lethallan, you look pale…" Merrill commented softly, her voice soaked in concern. "Are you alright?"

Lyna sighed. No, she felt horrible; sick to her stomach and dizzy, but she couldn't let it stop her. "I'll be fine." The other two elves didn't push it farther, they knew she wouldn't allow them to take her back if they wanted to or not. Without another word Lyna pushed on ahead of them, if they couldn't see her face maybe they'd stop noticing how terrible she actually felt.

Before long the group of elves stumbled on an abandoned camp. Fenarel gave the fire pit a gentle nudge with a boot, finding that there were still warm coals hidden below the ash. Who ever made camp here had not been gone for long at all. "Was this camp here before?"

"N-no…" Lyna replied, rubbing at one eye as her fever dreams again meshed with what had happened on that day. "No." She said again, this time sure of it; there had not been a fire in anything she remembered, dream or otherwise. Fenarel was looking at her with concern, but couldn't bring himself to say anything, sometimes Lyna was too stubborn for he own good.

"I wonder if it belongs to the _shemlen_ who found you. Keeper said he was coming back to the ruins to look for himself. Though I'm not sure what he hoped to find. I don't think Elven ruins would mean much to a human." Merrill commented, drifting off into her own world as the words poured from her mouth. She blinked realizing the two hunters where staring at her. "What? What? Did I say something funny?"

Lyna shook her head with a faint smile, placing her hand on Merrill's shoulder. Her expression shifted quickly however as a thought came to mind. "It must be his then. Unless those things we faced are smart enough to build fires." Lyna mumbled. None of them seemed to like the concept very much and they quickly moved on.

The ruins were not as lifeless the second visit as they had been the first. It was as if the mirror, not happy with the first intrusion had spawned the strange and twisted creatures to guard it. The three elves fell back, tempted to avoid the large open chambers entirely, except for the need to find their lost brother. Steeling themselves the Dalish pushed on clearing out one room and then another until only the final chamber in the center remained.

They found a trail of dead creatures leading into the room. A human, his armor stained with blood, stood before them almost like he'd been waiting for them to arrive.

The human's gaze turned to Lyna, his scrutiny felt heavy, but she wouldn't flinch back. Not for a human. "Ah, so you are the ones fighting darkspawn. I did not expect to see Dalish back in these caves, especially not you. I'm surprised you recovered."

"You are the human who found me, Duncan." Lyna replied, a hand on Fenarel's arm to ease him, he had his brother had the same idea of _shemlen_; better off dead. "I am Lyna Mahariel, _ma serannas_ for helping me; I know you did not have to."

"It was a pleasure." Duncan replied crossing his arms over his chest with a bow.

"_Andaran atish'an_, Duncan of the Grey Wardens." Merrill greeted, the words sounding a bit scripted, The keeper probably told her what to say. "The keeper's apprentice."

"I hope your keeper did not send you after me. I told her I would be in no danger."

"We came looking for our brother, Tamlen." Lyna replied when Merrill's eyes flicked to her. It was clear the First had only one response prepared for the human. It wasn't her fault, this was probably the first human she'd ever seen, and it was rather a pain to keep looking up at them. "We hoped to find trace of him here. Did you not see him with me?"

"No, I apologize. I found you outside this cave, delirious. You and Tamlen both entered this cave and found this mirror?"

"Tamlen… touched it." She admitted. The light had blinded her eyes, but he'd begged for her help just as his fingers had brushed the mirror's surface. Lyna rubbed her eyes trying to erase the image of Tamlen's panicked face. It didn't help. "I… I blacked out."

"This is unfortunate. The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror; they date back to the time of Arlathan and were used for communication. Over time some of them break of their own accord and fill with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it." The human warden paused with a sigh. "This is what made you sick and Tamlen too I would guess."

Lyna bit her lip and closed her eyes as a wave of despair washed over her, she'd hoped at least for a clue from this human of where to find Tamlen, not more bad news. But there was another matter, if this mirror was spreading a sickness it would be a danger to the clan; Marethari can only handle so much. "Is the mirror dangerous?"

Duncan nodded gravely. "It is, it will Taint all those who come near it."

"Marethari cured you, there is no reason to fear the Taint," Merrill piped in, her eyes on Lyna. "And if the mirror is truly from Arlathan then we need to try and cleanse it, it's part of our history."

"I am sorry; the keeper only weakened the Taint, but she did not cure it." The warden replied with a shake of his head. "Your recovery is only temporary Lyna, I can sense the sickness within you still and it is spreading. Can you not feel it?"

She could. It was like a living thing, twitching just below where her heart rests. It pulsed with life and the beat of her own heart making her shiver with the thought. Lyna was frightened by it, what was this foreign thing with in her? Would it grow and break from her chest to become those monsters they fought. Fenarel's hand touched her shoulder in comfort, and she was thankful for his support. "What… What do I do?" She asked, begged while trying not to, a whimper in her throat.

"First we must deal with the mirror, it is a pestilence that will only poison this cave, these woods and any who live within them." None of the elves said it aloud, but they were all thinking on a certain human village that they wouldn't mind gone. Duncan approached the mirror, taking a long sword in his hand. The sword sang as it arched and shattered the eerier non-reflective mirror. "It is done. I need to speak to your Keeper about the cure for you."

Lyna's eyes lingered on the broken frame of the mirror, her last hope of finding Tamlen seemed to break with it. Still she turned to Duncan, needing to ask. "There is no chance of finding Tamlen here, is there?"

There was a flash of something on Duncan's face, like he wanted to tell her what she wanted to hear, or maybe he disliked being the barrier of so much bad news. "I am afraid not, he is lost to you. You should be more concerned with your own fate."

"There are a lot of artifacts from Arlanthan here, is it not safe to take them?" Merrill asked slowly, afraid to speak up to the human.

"The mirror has already tainted these halls. If you must return here, I suggest you cleanse it with fire first least you bring the Taint back to your clan." The human replied and Merrill sighed. They would lose a lot in doing that, but it would better than others getting sick.

The group turned to leave, but Lyna lingered, approaching the shell of the mirror that stole Tamlen from her. She stared at the shattered glass. It held together rather well, despite Duncan's savage cut. She reached out a trembling hand and held it in front of her.

"We shouldn't linger here anymore." Duncan's voice called from behind her.

Her hand dropped.

She couldn't touch it. She couldn't bring herself to. How had Tamlen? Lyna would never know. She turned and followed the other three solemnly out of the cave.

The trip back to the clan was quiet and weighted. The elves hearts were heavy with the fact that they could not find Tamlen and the news would have to be brought to the Keeper. They would never get the chance again, the clan would move on for fear of the humans of the village. Humans they'd never harmed, Lyna thought bitterly, but who would attack them out of principle. It was because of them that they couldn't take the time to find him. Fen'Harel take the humans, every one of them.

Her eyes flickered to the human walking with them. She shouldn't think such things, but bitter thoughts swirled in her mind, thoughts she would not normally have. She was upset, she knew in some relational part of her. She sighed, letting the vicious thoughts run their course; they held no meaning unless she acted on them. Lyna was not a creature of hate, but she'd taken one too many blows this day and they brought her spirit down.

And she could still feel the thing, tight in her chest. The Taint Duncan called it. Darkspawn, Grey Wardens. Sure, she knew of them, in the sense of their passing mention, but Lyna had not asked enough questions. She hadn't the energy to; she still didn't, but regretted it all the same.

Finally they reached the clan.

"You've returned." The keeper greeted first embracing Lyna, then Merrill. Fenarel had wandered off, not wanting the keeper to be cross with him for not asking permission to join the search. "And you as well Duncan. Thank you, again, for keeping these _Dal'en_ safe. But I must ask what of Tamlen?"

"Duncan says he cannot be found." Lyna replied, feeling a bit better that she could place the blame on someone else, rather than take the failure onto herself and add to the weight she already carried.

"And the mirror? Did you bring anything back, Merrill?"

"I can answer that, Keeper." Duncan interrupted before squeaky Merrill could reply. "The mirror had to be destroyed; it would have only poisoned this clan and anything that touched it."

The Keeper was not happy with this, and crossed her arms over her chest, giving Duncan a hard look. "I had hoped to use it to find a cure for this disease. I am under no illusions that Lyna has escaped it's touched so easily."

The Warden gave the Keeper a faint bow of respect. "This is something I wish to discuss with you; I have learned a great many things since I was last here."

"Then we shall speak privately." With a sigh Marethari turned back to the two elves gathered before her. "Lyna, I know it will be hard, but please tell _Hahren_ Paivel what has happened. He has the task of preparing a funeral now. Merrill, warn the hunters of the darkspawn, I won't lose any more clan to these creatures."

The group broke apart and Lyna made her way, tired, to the main fire of the camp where Paivel no doubt would be. Paivel was the elder of the clan, the _Hahren_. Lyna could remember many hours of her youth spent listening to his tales, Paivel knew a great many things and many more he'd experienced himself. She must have looked sullen or maybe he knew her all too well. "Tamlen will not be coming back." He whispered somberly and she could only nod in reply. "It seems the will of the Creators that I sing for the passing of those I held in my arms as babes… I fear I've loved too long."

The _hahren_ turned to the fire as Lyna sank to the ground her back resting against the logs that normally served as seats for the clan when Paivel would painted his stories. This time he recited a poem, or maybe it was a song, the Elvish words were lost and only the translation remained.

"Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky,  
Hast'ning to place one last kiss upon your eye.  
Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber,  
Softening the rolling thunder.  
Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense.  
During this, your last hour, only silence."

The fire sparked and crackled with the sorrow echoed in his words. Lyna didn't want to believe Tamlen was gone; she couldn't. "You will prepare a service, won't you _haren?_"

"Of course, _Dal'en,_ the Creators must know and come to guide him to beyond." The Creators, however, were long gone. Banished or trapped, or maybe they simply didn't care. No one would come for Tamlen's spirit. It was for the living that they went through the motions of devotion; give them a measure of hope to deal with tragedy. "It will be done before the clan is ready to move on. Tell the keeper when you're ready."

Lyna was too tired to move, staring blankly into the fire before her. One of the younger children, a _dal'en_ even to her, crawled into her lap and she hugged the lad close. _Hahren_ Paivel watched sadly, everyone dealt with grief differently and it would take time for Lyna to recover from this loss. "Gather round, Children. Hear of the fall of the Dales; hear the tale of what makes you Dalish."

The elven children gathered with wide eyes and open mouths. Lyna could remember when she was so captivated by Paivel's stories and in truth; this was her favorite of them all. The elder's voice rolled with the weaving of words, giving the children a simple version of the tale. There was so much more to be added and said, but such complicated thoughts were not something children could understand so readily. The story was ended with the creed of the Dalish and Lyna's voice was added to Paivel's; "We are the Dalish keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last _Elvhenan_. Never again shall we submit. "

A faint smile crossed the elder's lips. He had hoped that her favorite story, one of overcoming adversary with just a hint of stubbornness would bring some life back into Lyna. It worked in a small way; it would be up to her to pull herself back up the rest of the way.

Lyna gave the child in her lap a kiss on the forehead and gently slid him off her lap before standing. With a sigh she returned to the Keeper, intending to pass the news of Tamlen's service before sleeping the rest of the day away.

"_Dal'en, _a moment." The keeper called and Lyna obeyed. "I have spoken with Duncan about a cure for you and…" The keeper trailed off.

The Warden continued where the Keeper could not. "The Grey Wardens require recruits, and it is the only place you will be able to find a cure for the Darkspawn Taint that courses through you. I hope you will accompany me when I leave your clan."

"I-I have to leave the clan..?" Lyna's voice cracked with repressed emotion. They were kicking her out. They hated her for loosing Tamlen. Or maybe for this thing she now had inside her. The reason didn't matter, her clan was exiling her.

Marethari touched her arm trying to pull her close, but Lyna remained ridged. "Your life depends on it _Dal'en._"

"Eventually the Taint will sicken and kill you… or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent this." Duncan added in an attempt to ease her. Lyna's head hung, she heard the words, though her heart and mind rebelled against the truth in them. "But it means joining us and you may never return here. This is not just charity, the fact that you've survived this long with the taint is remarkable and I feel you will make an excellent Grey Warden."

She was still suck on the thought that her clan was getting rid of her. "You're casting me out."

The keeper placed a hand on Lyna's chin, forcing her to look the older woman in the eyes. "No _Dal'en_, that could not be farther from the truth. We cannot stand to see you suffer and die. This is your only hope and we send you off with sadness and heavy hearts. Please, accept the warden's offer."

Even out of stubborn pride Lyna did not want to die. As much as she didn't want to leave the clan, this was the only way for her. She slowly wrapped her arms around her Keeper and held her a moment before slipping from her embrace and turning to the warden. "I have no choice then… I accept Duncan."

Duncan had been respectful and understanding. Even now he stood to the side, waiting patiently for the resolution. "I welcome you to the order, though I wish it was with less sorrow that you join us."

Lyna nodded in agreement, her green eyes thick with sadness. "I would like to stay for Tamlen's funeral, if that is alright."

"I cannot deny you that." The warden replied with a nod.

With a hand on her back Marethari guided her towards the heart of the camp. "Come, before the Creators guide you away, let the clan embrace you one last time."

It was like she was someone else watching from a far as her clan, her family, came to say goodbye. Bubbly Merrill, her eyes where stained red with fat tears had held her so tight Lyna wondered if her ribs would bruise. Fenarel losing the two people closest to him in the same day stood stoic, but Lyna knew somehow that he'd been deeply wounded and could do nothing about it. Ashalle stood off to the side and somehow she looked far older then Lyna had ever seen her. Junar, they'd made a game of bow practice and were always hard pressed to beat the other, could not look her in the eye. Parviel touching her arm sadly, another whom he'd held as a babe leaving the clan for the last time. Marethari took her hand, slipping a ring over her ungloved finger. "A gift, it is your heritage and something to remember us by."

From a distance she could hear the Halla singing their morning song. Lyna couldn't tell if they sung for Tamlen or for her.

The whole clan had seen her off, and she would probably never see them again.

She'd been trying not to cry for hours.

She didn't want to seem weak in front of this _shemlen_, but she'd be damned if she didn't want to bawl like a child. Tamlen was dead. Her clan had exiled her, even if they'd sent her off in sadness, Lyna still felt like Marethari had cast her out because of her actions. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage and kick something. Mostly she just wanted to sob quietly in misery.

The thoughts raced around her head. She tried to keep her expression impassive, but her lips breath would hitch, or her eyes would narrow for a moment, or her head would droop until she was staring at her toes as they walked. If Duncan noticed any of it, he said nothing. Lyna wasn't sure if he was oblivious or just didn't want to deal with a stupid crying Dalish girl.

Half of Lyna wished he would, say something, she'd never been far from her clan; comfort would be nice. But then the other half would scream at her for being weak and wanting the condolences of a human, the rage, snapped her back from any attempt to bridge the silence between them.

They traveled south, but the journey was days long and her first night away from camp was spent alone in front of the small fire Duncan had asked her to light. The man had turned in for the night, the land was safe enough, or maybe he knew she wouldn't move from the spot she sat staring into the flickering flames.

Or maybe he had asked, and she simply never heard him.

She was being consumed by her grief and without someone there to force her to school her emotions the tears began to fall slowly and silently. She wasn't even sure what she was crying for at this point. Did she cry for Tamlen? Did she cry for want of her clan? Did she cry for herself? It hardly mattered anyway.

"I long to taste adventure…" She recited the words barely above a whisper, to the flames. Words to a song she'd heard the last time she had attended an _Arlathvhen,_ almost ten years ago, forcing their way to her lips_. _Why the words came to her now she couldn't say, but it was better than the silence. Better than the hate filled thoughts that lingered in the back of her mind. "Like the nature of the sea… Always hiding all the creatures from beneath. Singing silent songs of sadness…

"My heart waits for its chance… to dance on the ashes of my burned up plans…"

She sighed. That was the kicker. She'd had all these ideas for her future and in an instant they'd been set aflame and she was left standing in the aftermath. Set adrift in a sea with nothing to guide her. She didn't want to be bitter, but Creators, what had she done to deserve this?

Duncan sat down next to her.

Lyna jumped out of her skin. She hadn't heard him get up and tears still trickling down her face. She couldn't stop them, couldn't wipe them away without feeling like a helpless child. Couldn't he have let her have her moment of pain?

"You do not have to pretend." He whispered. Her half broken stoic mask shattered and she choked a sob, tears raining down her face. He said nothing more. What could be said to what she felt anyway? It had been enough and he respected her enough not to try to add to it, but to let his presence be a comfort if she desired it.

_Here I stand alone before the night. _

_My nakedness is so clear in the glow of the moon light._

_Life is old… but so short._

It didn't seem matter to him that he was human or she was elf, and that made the tears come even faster. She could only smile as she realized it, turning saddened eyes in Duncan's direction. He was kind, kinder then any _shemlen_ had ever been to her. Not that many humans had been given that chance.

Maybe Lyna was being bold with her assumptions but he seemed to understand that she was in mourning, that she was frightened by the prospect of being surrounded by humans, without another Dalish elf around to understand her. She felt he understood it all and she didn't have to say anything. She sighed rubbing the cloudy tears from her eyes, even if they came back just as fast, trying to choke back a sob.

_Like a wave on the rocks the lessons crash down on me._

There was kindness in humans; Duncan proved that to Lyna then. He proved it to her with his silent understanding and even more when he wrapped a strong arm around her waist and let her cry on his shoulder. He didn't have to do these things. He could have easily ignored her; he'd gotten what he wanted, a new Grey Warden recruit and his obligations to her, at least in the sense of her feelings, could easily have ended before they even left the camp.

_I don't need to prove the world to you only to myself._

_So step back and look away as I dive into the swell._

Lyna would fight for him. It was the least she could do; Duncan had inspired a loyalty in her that would never waver. She would prove to him that his faith, his kindness had not been wasted. Let the Darkspawn come, Demons or Dragons, Lyna would gladly take them all on.

Creators, just give her the chance.

* * *

Da'len: _Child and/or Children_

Emm'asha: _My Girl._

Dareth_: be safe._

_Song; _Who Needs Air_ by The Classic Crime_

_Phew. This was difficult! I hope Ostagar will be a bit easier to trudge through._

_I feel like the Dalish know so little elvish that they feel the need to abuse what words they do know. Personally, that gets annoying to type, so I hope it didn't annoy you as much as it did me! Haha. _


	3. Chapter 3

For a second time, Lyna awoke in pain and disorientated. "I'm starting to make this a habit." She grumbled to the air, casting her blurry gaze around the small shack she found herself in.

"You are awake." For a moment Lyna didn't recognize the woman before her. It took her mind a moment to pull the events of the last few days back into order.

"Morrigan, it's you…"

"Aye, tis I. What do you remember?" The swamp witch asked with what Lyna had quickly learned was limited patience.

"I remember… Ostagar…" The Dalish replied with effort. "The battle… We lit the beacon, but only darkspawn came…"

* * *

Lyna had never seen anything like it. The ruins of the fortress towered before her, massive stone sculptures carved by human hands that seemed to scrape the sky. She'd seen human construction before, usually tinny little shanty towns built of sticks out of necessity, never anything that would last so long, never anything quite as breathtaking as this. Her mouth hung open in amazement. "Like dragons they fly…" She whispered to herself.

"What was that?" Duncan asked, catching ear of her breath, as they walked.

The Dalish bit her lip. "Ah- Oh. It's… a poem I read once. Written when the _Elvhenan_ first encountered humans." She replied sheepishly, knowing the rest of the poem wasn't so kind. "You… might not like the rest of it."

The warden gave her an unreadable look, Lyna found it was hard to tell what the human was thinking sometimes. He was either really good at hiding, or she simply did not have enough experience reading humans. Lyna blamed their too small eyes. "I'd like to hear it anyway, if you don't mind."

Finally Lyna shrugged, giving in.

"Like dragons they fly upon glorious wings.  
Like dragons they savage, fearsome pretty things."

After a moment, Duncan chuckled at the words. "A fitting description."

Lyna could only smile and shake her head; Duncan was always surprising her like that. He was hard to offend, not that she ever tried. In fact she went to lengths to make sure she wouldn't say or do something that could be seen as callous, her experience told her humans were prickly things, easily slighted. Duncan was not, and even took her innocent questions; ones that would make others bristle with contempt for even being asked, as they were. He answered everything with an understanding that they asked out of desire for knowledge and not out of a desire to provoke a reaction.

He'd given her a crash course in understanding human… well, everything. Lyna had needed it, even if it made her head spin.

Needless to say, they'd amalgamated nicely.

As they crossed into the main fortress she now knew was called Ostagar, another human came to greet them, flanked by two well-armed guards that gave Lyna a strange look when they noticed she was not only an elf, but also Dalish. "Well met, Duncan!"

"King Cailan, I did not expect-"

"A royal welcome?" Lyna was caught off guard by the supposed king of Ferelden. He was pretty in the way some humans could _sometimes_ be, golden hair and deep eyes. "I was beginning to worry you wouldn't make it in time for the fun."

"Not if I could help it, your majesty."

"Then I will have the mighty Duncan at my side when we face the darkspawn, glorious." Lyna couldn't help but notice that his armor was shiny, new as if it had not yet been truly tested. He carried himself in a way that reminded her of the _dal'en_, herself as well once, before they took their first kill, before they received their _vallaslin, _before they learned what life was really like. "I was told you had found a promising recruit, is this she?"

"King Cailan, if I may-" He was cut off once again by the boisterous young king who positively towered over the small Dalish girl. Elves were short, it was a fact, and Lyna was tiny compared to just about everything. Step one to making an elf uncomfortable; remind them how small they are.

"Might I know your name?"

She stuttered a moment, a bit star stuck. How does one address a king? She had no idea, Duncan obviously thinking she wouldn't meet him so soon had not mentioned anything, and she was rather keen on not upsetting the most powerful man in the country.

"He is not so easily offended." Duncan offered in a whisper beside her. So Lyna sucked it up and spoke.

"_Andaran atish'an_, I am Lyna Mahariel… You're the king..?" She asked, trying not to sound incredulous and only half succeeding. He was young, both in body and mind and she was struck by the thought that he probably did not know what it meant to survive.

"Ah, Elvish, can't understand a lick of it myself so I will assume that was 'hello'." The king chuckled good- naturedly. he caught her in the act, but surprised her by rolling with it. All these humans proving her wrong, she was starting to think _everything_ she knew about them was wrong. "You sound surprised."

"Y-you don't act like a king. At least, you don't act like what I thought a king would be. Not that I've ever met a king, so my expectations might be a bit skewed." The Dalish bit her lip to keep from rambling on, she was nervous enough to talk for minutes if she let it go.

Cailan only let out a heartily laugh. "Most people would say I don't act like a king would act, so you may still be right. I can't help but notice; you are Dalish, are you not? I am told your people are skilled and honorable."

"That is kind of you to say." Lyna replied slowly, swallowing another response, a less kind one about how humans rarely seem to see the Dalish that way was on the tip of her tongue. No, things were going well, it wouldn't do to snap at a king when his only fault was paying a compliment. He was at least trying to be kind and Lyna could meet him half way.

Most of all, Duncan had told her a strange human proverb; you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. She'd been far too confused by the words to make sense of them, but Duncan was nothing if not a patient teacher. Things will come easier, those things being the flies, when one uses kindness as an attractant then rudeness, those being the honey and vinegar respectively.

Well, it made as much sense as anything else humans said, so she rolled with it. _Vir bor'assan;_ bend, but do not break. Oh, but _Andruil_, she was trying. These humans were just so intent in trying to see her snap.

The king was talking still; she'd kind of lost track what he'd been saying. "Well, you are very welcomed here, the Grey Wardens can only benefit from having you among them. I must cut this short, Loghain is eager to bore me with his strategies."

"Your uncle sends his regards," Duncan added before the king could excuse himself. "And bids me to remind you that Redcliffe forces could arrive in just a few days."

"Eamon is just being cautious, we've already won three battles against theses monsters and tomorrow will be no different. I am beginning to think this isn't even a real blight." The King commented dismissively.

"Things are going well?" Lyna wondered aloud, confused by this. From what Duncan told her, a blight was a savage thing that was not so easily repelled.

Cailan looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook his head. "There are plenty of darkspawn, sure, but we've seen no sight of an archdemon."

"Disappointed?" That was Duncan, but Lyna was thinking much the same thing if a little more pointed.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god… This will do, I suppose." The king sighed wistfully and Lyna tried not to look unamused. The stories were never as gruesome as the real event; they never prepared you for what it was really like. Stories were meant to inspire, sure, but life is never like the tales. The boy king hadn't learned that lesson yet either. "I really must go before a search party is sent out for me. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

And with that the King of Ferelden parted.

Lyna let out the breath she'd been holding.

"You're taking this in stride." After a moment Duncan turned to regard her, a brow crocked slightly.

"I'm working on it anyway." Lyna replied dropping the hand that had found its way against her chest. It was just unexpected, is all. Meeting the King of a country, and while her clan didn't technically call themselves Fereldens they did reside in this country, and having him ask you to spend time swapping camp stories with him was more than a little shocking. Oh, _that_ is what she missed when she zoned out a bit ago, she must have agreed because he seemed happy enough. "He doesn't seem… He a bit… Umm. Yeah."

"It is true that he has won several battles against the darkspawn, but the horde has only grown with each day, and now looks to outnumber us." Duncan sighed. A very deep, sigh from the depths of his lungs that told of how many times the boy king has given him a headache. Lyna wondered how long Duncan's known him. He motioned her to walk with him and she followed patiently beside him as he spoke, having to tilt her head to one side to look him in the eye. "As much as the king respects me I can't ask him to act solely on my feelings, but I know there is an archdemon behind this. The Grey Wardens in Ferelden are too few, however and we can only look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. We should proceed with the Joining without delay."

"What do I do?" She'd already asked him about her cure and his answer was the ritual the Wardens called the Joining. Duncan had told her it was a secret and he could not discuss it until the ritual began, and so she had not pressed the point.

"Find another Grey Warden named Alistair, when you are ready and he will summon the other recruits and meet me at the Grey Warden tents. I have business to attend to, so feel free to take your time." The translation was Lyna would probably be overwhelmed by so many humans about, if she wasn't already, and if she needed to take a moment to calm her nerves, she had that option. A half smile crossed her lips and she nodded and Duncan left her to her own devices.

The Dalish elf did stay on that bridge for several long moments staring out at the wilds and breathing in the fresh air of the forests. It was a bit swampier then what she was used to, but the breeze was nice on her skin.

Her thoughts drifted to her clan, and she found she was strangely okay with what happened. Largely, she knew because Duncan had given her what she needed to cope, someone to lean on. Did he realize how quickly he'd inspire devotion in this little Dalish? Lyna could only wonder. Her smile broadened suddenly.

More flies with honey indeed, Duncan.

The camp was a bustle, a smorgasbord, a hodgepodge of people and sounds and smells. Lyna's nose crinkled at that last one. She could hear a woman reciting, or reading… ah! _Chanting_ the text of that monotheism the humans follow. Somewhere else the crackle and call of magic and magi tested their spells before the battle. Dogs barked in the distance even father from where she stood and her sensitive ears could even hear the sounds of a sergeant drilling his men.

Too many sounds, in all honesty, it had barely been five minutes and already her head was ringing from the influx of noise. Creators, please! Take her back to the quiet forest, the noise was torture enough!

She rubbed at her temples, and then the spot behind her too sensitive elf ears that made her dizzy if she pressed too hard, but so good if she did it just right. _He_ was always better with that one; there was a shot of pain in her chest from the thought.

No, she was okay with it. Maybe not _over_ it, but okay if she could just not think about it.

"Something the matter dear?" The elf blinked, an elderly woman standing by the mage's tents was gazing in her direction. Lyna glanced around, making sure that she really was the one being spoken to, glancing at the woman and pointing at herself questioningly and was rewarded with a nod. "You are the newest Grey Warden recruit, are you not?"

This was the first _shemlen_ besides Duncan, and the king, who willingly spoke to her. Lyna wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing, and was left wondering if the woman had begun the conversation out of curiosity, like the Dalish was something to be gawked at. Those thoughts were making her angry so she shoved them away. "Yes, I'm… just not used to all the noise. I'm Lyna Mahariel."

"I'm Wynne, a mage summoned by the king." She replied with a smile. The elder mage was eyeing her critically, probably her _vallaslin_ that marked her quite proudly as Dalish. It added fuel to her inner fire, and Lyna wished for escape before she said anything stupid. "Unfortunately the noise isn't something I can help with. Good luck on the battlefield, good luck to both of us."

"T-thank you, you too…" The Dalish elf shimmied off; not wanting to press conversation with someone had already set her mental voice into a riot. She needed to find this Alistair person, maybe then people will stop looking at her like an oddity. Actually, they probably still would, but at least she'd have a meat shield to hide behind when they did.

Here was hoping he wasn't as bad as every other human in this camp seemed to be.

Creators… What a task you've put to your humble child.

It was loud, loud in elf ears anyway, angry voices that drew her attention. Well, one loud angry voice and another who sounded mildly annoyed while trying to keep as cheerful and polite as possible. Lyna _had_ to go find out what this was about. There was nothing better she was good at then sneaking around and listening to other's talk. Rather than follow the stone steps to the alcove that she'd pinpointed the voices to, she ducked into a grove of trees behind the mage's tents, scaling the small trees, little more than saplings really, and watched from the leaves.

She recognized one as a possible mage, only because of just having met Wynne moments before, and the other was dressed in some fancy armor. The mage type human looked rather agitated. She couldn't get a good look at the other human from her spot behind him, but from his stance she could tell he was more than a bit annoyed. He was grumbling about a message and naming his child after the man, the _grumpy_ one, Lyna clamped a hand over her mouth not to giggle aloud. She already liked this human, here was hoping he had as good of a character as Duncan did.

Finally the mage left and Lyna vaulted over the side of the stone wall, sitting lightly on the raised archway. "Well that was certainly pleasant." She commented dryly with a cock of an eye brow.

The man turned, a bit shocked by the fact that she appeared out of nowhere, but let it pass quickly enough and offered her a bemused smile. "That's the great thing about the blight, it brings people together!"

Lyna was also rather puzzled by him, tilting her head to the side she couldn't help but ask; "Would you be offended if I said you were a strange human?"

The human chuckled a bit, shrugging. Score for Lyna, at least there was one other human here that didn't see her as weird. "You wouldn't be the first. Would you be offended if I said you talk funny?"

It hadn't struck her until he pointed it out, but she did have an accent compared to the rest of the humans that muttered about the camp. "You _would_ be the first to say so, but no."

He paused suddenly, frowning a bit. "You don't happen to be another mage, would you?"

An eyebrow raised in his direction. "Surprised that you could actually get along with one if I was?"

"Exactly." The man snapped his fingers, point at her in a eureka moment. "You're Dalish!"

Lyna busted out laughing, holding her side in mirth. "Ohh and that only took you what, two, three minutes?"

"Oh hush, Duncan said his new recruit was Dalish, I apologize." That sobered her up some. "I should have recognized you sooner."

"Then that must mean your Alistair. I'm Lyna Mahariel."

"I guess that means Duncan sent you to hunt me down. I'm supposed to be accompanying you as you prepare for the joining ritual." Lyna nodded in affirmation. "Right, then, we'll need to gather the other two recruits and meet Duncan. Whenever you're ready."

"Know where they are?"

"Err… Camp, somewhere."

Lyna frowned. "At least tell me you know what they look like."

"I'll know them when I see them." Alistair replied with a shrug, ever helpful.

Her shoulders slumped a little, but she stood and walked back down from the ruins, towards the main camp, Alistair following behind her. It wasn't a minute later when some gruff solider came up beside her, rather noisily so Lyna wasn't too surprised, at least not until he began shouting. "You! _Elf!_ Where's my armor? And why in Maker's name are you dressed like that?"

"What?" Lyna blinked, turning. There were no other elves around, the call had to be for her, but why would this man think that she'd have it?

"My _armor_. All these bloody elves running about can't get a damn th-." The Quartermaster grumbled. That did it. The sound of blades sliding from their sheath and a dagger at his neck cut the man off instantly.

"I think you're mistaking me for a servant." It was people like him that made her dislike humans, and her patience was nearing an end. Of course, to Alistair, it probably looked like she snapped at the first person who spoke to her.

The man's eyes finally fell on Alistair and he managed to put two and two together. "You're the- Grey Warden." He babbled helplessly without a weapon to defend himself with. "I.. I never thought-"

"Then maybe you should be a bit kinder to the servants." Lyna growled, it was hard to imagine such a small thing being menacing, but if the look on the Quartermaster's face was anything to go by, she managed it.

"Y-yes, your right! Please, forgive my rudeness-" He croaked, and her dangerous expression lifted instantly, her daggers slipping away so fast Alistair blinked and missed it.

"See, not so hard." The elf replied with a childish giggled. Both men were dumbstruck as she skipped off, it took a moment or so for Alistair to pull himself back together and follow after her.

"You can't snap at everyone just because they give you a dirty look." The former Templar commented, earning a huff from the Dalish. It was harder to understand how humans saw elves, and while it wasn't always right how they got treated, it was such a norm that people tended to forget that fact. Lyna only snorted at his words, clearly thinking that to be a load. "Though the look on his face was priceless."

That got a half smile out of her and things seemed to lighten a little. Lyna was feeling stressed, talking helped, so she did.

"I know. It's because I yelled at that priestess woman the other day." She mumbled under her breath. Most of all she was ashamed, having broken her own tenet in that moment. "It was her fault; she called me a heathen for not wanting your Maker's blessing. Would it help if I apologized? Because I'm sorry, I really am."

Alistair didn't know what to say to that, but apparently it wasn't enough as her Creators saw fit to test her again as someone else tried to hail her down.

"Hey Elf!" Alistair flinched as the Kennelmaster called out less than civilly. This is what he was going to be doing for the next few hours? Putting out the fire that was this little Dalish Elf?

"I swear to the creators if another _shemlen_ mistakes me for a servant-" She was muttering, already in a bad mood after the Quartermaster had given her such a hard time, she was ready to snap again, but Alistair put a heavy hand on her shoulder and quieted her raging words. Gods above, please, let this end soon.

"Your Dalish, ya?" The man lacked tack sure, but unlike the Quartermaster he hadn't jumped to the conclusion that she was another servant and that was enough, it seemed for her to let his words slide. Like a cat, curious but weary she slunk up to the man watching him with a sideways slant. "Your good with animals, aren't you? I need some help with this Mabari." He added with a tone that sounded more matter of fact then it should be.

It was like watching a snake coiling up for a strike, but Lyna was like a rattler, she let everyone know she wasn't messing around before sinking her teeth into something. "What makes you think I'm good with animals just because I'm Dalish?"

The kennelmaster was taking back a bit by her sharp words, but he barreled on without missing a beat. "Well, nothing really. But you are, aren't you?"

Lyna relaxed. Visibly her stance changed, she shifted so her weight rested on one leg, her hand on the same hip. It was a dramatic thing only because she decided to make it dramatic for the sake of the man before her who was used to working with dogs and not people.

"Well of course I am; I'm Dalish." Alistair snickered behind her, and Lyna tried hard not to smile too brightly. "But I have no idea what a Mabari is."

"'Sa dog. War dog. Breed by Mages long ago to be smart and understand complex commands." The Kennelmaster replied, undaunted by her spirit, in fact he seemed to be awe of her. "This one's gone and got a bit too much of the darkspawn blood in him form the last battle. I need to muzzle him, but he won't let me near him."

"You think I can do it?"

"You're Dalish."

Lyna laughed aloud, caught in her own loop. "Okay, you got me."

With a sigh she remembered, the _word_ Mabari, but she'd never seen one before. Like most things, they were of the _shemlen's _world and those she'd only gimps in text or by word of mouth. She had absolutely no idea what to do really, but if they were as smart as the Kennelmaster says, well, then they couldn't be so much different from Halla, and Lyna always liked talking to the Halla.

She stepped slowly passed the small gate, getting down on her knees so she wouldn't seem so dominant to the dog. He was obviously in pain, his ears were tucked and his head down, he growled at her, but only backed away; it wasn't an aggressive response, just a fearful one. "Hey there… I'm not going to hurt you my friend, I promise." The dog seemed to calm down a bit at that and she slowly shimmied closer on her knees until she could gently rub the huge hound on the shoulder. He whined a bit but seemed to enjoy the gentle touch. "So the big scary human over there says that you're not feeling good, and he really wants to help you, if you let him."

The dog whined again his head going down as he shifted closer to her on his own. Lyna moved to rub him behind the ears. "I know I know, but you trust me right?"

Another gentle whimper, followed by a low huff of breath. "Good boy, I promise you he's going to help, but you're going to have to let me put a muzzle on you, okay?"

The big head of the mutt fell into her lap and he let out a pitiful sound.

"He's not going to make you sleep-" Her eyes darted to the kennel master who seemed taken aback by her hard gaze, it even made Alistair a little nervous, she had a gaze like a wolf. These Dalish, they were as wild as any animal. What _was_ he going to do with her? "-and I'll do everything I can to make sure you get better." The dog let out another breath and Lyna gently slid the muzzle over his face. She stayed with it for a few more minutes giving the dog a gentle rub down before detangling herself from the beast. "I wasn't lying to him, is there anything else I can do?"

The kennelmaster thought a moment. "If you're heading out into the wilds, there's a flower with curative properties and resistance to the taint that will help."

Lyna nodded, promising to bring it back if she found it.

They found Daveth unsuccessfully trying to court a woman, who turned him down with a cold glare before walking away. He shrugged and grinned when the two of them approached, glad to see Alistair.

"Didn't think you'd be an elf," He said bluntly, earning a wary eye from Lyna, so many pointed comments on her race, she was starting to think there were only three decent people in the whole camp. Oh wait, maybe four if she counted the kennelmaster. "Me and Ser knight had a bet going on who you'd be." He grinned. "Got ten silvers for you being a woman at least, so there's that. Name's Daveth."

"Lyna." The elf replied a bit more ice in her voice then she intended, or maybe more than Alistair was comfortable hearing.

Rather than let things escalate, these two had to work together at some point, Alistair stepped in. "We're going to go find Jory, meet us by Duncan, if you will Daveth."

"Sure, sure." The man replied, walking off.

Lyna kicked at a stone, and Alistair sighed. "He didn't mean anything by it, you know."

"Yeah, I figured." She sighed, the strain leaving her, mostly, and they went on to find Jory.

The knight was equally surprised that the new warden recruit was a woman, but even more so that she was also an elf. That quickly got Lyna's blood boiling again. To the void with these humans, she thought. "And what does me being an elf have to do with anything?"

"Ah, well nothing, I guess." Ser Jory replied as he introduced himself, looking like he just stepped in some horse shit. "Just that… some placed don't allow elves in the military, s'all."

It was like no one noticed the very distinguished marking on her forehead until it was far too late. She rubbed it, developing a headache. Defiantly only four decent people in this camp. Alistair sent the knight on his way, and Lyna waved him away when he asked if she'd like to head with him. Instead she wandered away to a small cusp of trees, sitting in the shade of the leaves.

"I'm not like this." She mumbled when he leaned his weight against the bark of a tree. She rubbed at the markings on her face, the tattoo whose meaning he didn't know, then her face, with an exasperated sigh. "I'm really not. My head hurts from all the sounds. I'm not use to so many people, and don't try to tell me they're not downright rude sometimes, because they are."

"They are." He agreed.

"You must have a terrible impression of me." She sighed, again. Leaning back against the bark of the tree. "A minute. I just need a minute."

He might have, if she hadn't joked and smiled with him when they first met. She didn't like being treated as less than others, and she was a proud, wild, Dalish. It made for a bad recipe when mixed with a whole camp of people who didn't know how to look at an elf other than down. "Take your time; do you want me to stay?"

"Please? Chase off any quartermasters who need their armor or knights who don't think elves can be wardens?" A smile graced her lips, though her eyes were closed, and he chuckled lightly. Alistair thought she might have fallen asleep for a moment or two before she suddenly sprung to her feet. "Okay, I'm good. We can go find Duncan now and I'll try to place nice with Daveth and Jory, promise."

With her spirits mended just a bit they went to join Duncan and the other two recruits by the warden's tent. After Duncan berated Alistair for sassing the mage, he tasked them with their mission in the Korcari Wilds. They were to obtain three vials worth of darkspawn blood and to try and obtain scrolls that had been left behind long ago, if at all possible. Lyna didn't ask any questions, already knowing Duncan wouldn't give her a straight answer until later.

"The scrolls contain treaties that promise support, they may be useful in the days to come." Duncan added. Apparently this task had little to do with the joining itself; else the warden-commander would not have given such information. "Watch over your charges Alistair, return quickly and safely."

"We will." The younger man replied with a nod. With that the group set off.

* * *

_Yes, Lyna misquoted the poem, if you didn't happen to notice. Memory is fallible after all, few people can claim their mind is like a codex entry and Lyna has a bit of attention deficit going on most of the time. Also, this is how I happened to remember it, and only realized it was wrong after the fact. I like my version though, just saying._

_I wanted to make Ostagar one chapter, but I think 10 pages is bit long, and the second half promises to be almost equal to that, so yeah. _

_Hope you enjoyed!_


	4. Chapter 4

Daveth, Lyna learned as they walked, was a cutpurse, a pickpocket and proud of it. Duncan had found him in Denerim when Daveth tried to steal from the warden. For some reason, Duncan took a liking to him and conscripted him into the order. Daveth was lucky for that, as the garrison would have hung him; a long list of crimes followed that one. Lyna reassessed her impression of him; the man was a bit blunt but he was likeable, and so she forgave him for being a bit coarse.

Jory was another matter. He had a wife in Highever, wherever that was, and while his words told her that he loved them dearly, Lyna couldn't get passed the fact that the man had a habit of looking down at her, she being an elf. Jory however was an honorable man, and one who understood the price of duty as he himself had to leave his pregnant wife behind. Lyna could trust him, but she thought she would never like him as much as Daveth or Alistair.

It didn't help that Jory kept complaining about their tasks in the wilds. Daveth, like Lyna, let it slide off his back. The faster they finished the faster they could return to camp. Jory however was ever the voice of pessimism, even after Alistair reassured them that they would not run into too large a group of darkspawn. Lyna found herself rolling her eyes more than once at his words.

At least she found the flower the Kennelmaster wanted that way, so it wasn't all for naught.

True to Alistair words, they only ran into a few groups of darkspawn, scouts if Lyna was any guess. They were cut down easily enough and no vast hoard came to surround them, though it did little to ease Jory's troubled tongue. It was hours of walking, a few conversations were she argued with Daveth that they'd already been the way he wished to go and several battles with darkspawn before they found, or rather stumbled into, the ruins they'd been searching for.

Lyna bent down to inspect the cache only to find the chest had been broken, its protective seal gone, and the scrolls inside with it.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The elf jumped to her feet, even her sensitive ears had not heard the woman coming. "Vultures? Scavenger come to pick at bones long since cleaned? Or intruders, that have come into my wilds for easy prey? What say you?"

"Wardens," Lyna replied, a little more hesitantly then she meant. It wasn't every day that someone could sneak up on her. "Hoping to find that which was left in this tower."

The woman's yellow eyes blazed like a cats as she descended down the incline to the group of wardens. "A tower no longer, the wilds have claimed this corpse. …I've watched you for some time now. Where do they go, I wonder, Why are they here?" The men behind Lyna seemed frightened, and while she herself had been startled by her presence Lyna wasn't sure it warranted such a reaction.

"She looks Chasind," Alistair muttered coming to stand beside Lyna, the only one of the group to do so. "Don't answer, others might be nearby."

Course, Lyna wasn't sure what it meant to be Chasind.

"You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" The witch replied, giving Alistair, as well as the other two men an annoyed look and unknowingly giving Lyna a half answer to her unvoiced question.

"Yes," Alistair responded with a wary gaze at the witch before them. "Swooping is… bad."

"She's a witch of the wilds, she'll turn us into toads, she will." Daveth's eyes were wide as a hunted deer. He'd told Lyna earlier that he'd gown up near the wilds and was told stories of these witches all his life. It was impossible for him not to be afraid.

Morrigan only rolled her eyes at the comment. "Such idle fantasies. Have you no mind of your own?"

Witch of the Wilds… that sparked a memory, but Lyna had about enough of it. If any of them were right they were only succeeding in upsetting a very powerful witch and the Dalish elf was intent on avoiding such a thing. She stood in front of the hulking forms of the human males, why did humans have to be so large? Her arm was out before them, as if to hold them back, to keep any stupid movement behind her.

"Forgive my rather… brash friends here. I am Lyna, and its pleasure to meet you. We were sent to collect what was in that chest you see. You wouldn't happen to know where they are now, would you?" Alright, so maybe Lyna was just a little bit nervous, as her words tumbled out faster than she wished, even the elves knew of the Witches of the Wilds, even if it had taken her a moment to recall. Mostly the Dalish were told to be respectful and to say away if at all possible. The last part was unavoidable now, so Lyna did the next best thing. Honey, lots of honey. Seems Duncan should have imparted that wisdom on these men as well.

"Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the wilds. You may call me Morrigan and I do know what happen to the contents." The witch, now Morrigan sent an amused smile in Lyna's direction.

"She knows because she was the one who took them." Alistair accused rather brazenly, Lyna could kick him. "You're some kind of… sneaky witch thief! Those documents are Gray Warden property and I suggest you return them."

Lyna almost groaned aloud and Morrigan snorted. "Eloquent, but I will not as they are not in my possession. Demand as you like, I am not threatened."

"Then who has them?" If Lyna could physically push Alistair back, she would, but she didn't have the strength and was forced to settle with standing between him and Morrigan.

"T'was my mother, in fact."

Another witch, wonderful. "May we speak with her?"

A slow smile spread over Morrigan's face and for a moment Lyna wondered if she'd somehow finally stepped on the tiger's tail. "That is a sensible request, I like you."

"Careful, first it's 'I like you.' And suddenly you're a frog." Alistair mumbled under his breath. The boys behind her offered similar words of discouragement, but Lyna could only shake her head in response. No need to tell them even she was beginning to fear just that.

"Follow me then," Morrigan was walking off without a second glance to see if they would come or not. "If it pleases you."

What was that other human saying? Out of the pan and into the fire. Yes, Lyna was beginning to feel the heat, but it was too late now.

The walk to Morrigan's mother's hut was short, surprisingly. Lyna was sure they'd walked by it twice already, but then that wouldn't account for them missing it completely, it was rather obvious set up. Outside a small dilapidated hut stood a woman, old and winkled but in no way feeble and that was far more concerning then the witch Morrigan, somehow.

"Mother," The witch greeted, moving to stand next to the grizzled woman. "I bring four Grey Wardens-"

"I see that girl, much as I expected." There was strangeness to her, one that sent Lyna's senses on fire, though for what reasons she couldn't fathom, other than the fact that she was most likely a witch just as Morrigan was.

"You want us to believe you knew we were coming?" Alistair was skeptical, Lyna was too, but that was no reason to call the woman out on it. Were they not all cowering for fear of witches moments ago? It seemed like they were determined to poke at the beehive.

"Do as you like; you are required to do nothing, least of all believe." A snake's smile spread across the woman's face, the one when it knows its meal is at hand. "Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide, either way one is a fool."

"We shouldn't be talking to her." Daveth muttered, hanging back from the rest of the group. Lyna felt for him, but his cowardness and accusations were starting to ware and if any of them were true, it would only succeed in making the women angry.

"Daveth, quiet. If she really is a witch, you don't want to make her mad?" Jory hissed. For once Lyna agreed with him.

"Smart lad, but sadly _irrelevant _in the grand scheme of things." The elder woman replied with a dismissive hand before turning her heavy gaze to Lyna. "And what of you, does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

"I'm not sure, just yet."

"More wisdom in a child elf then in three grown men." The woman cackled, making said three men twitch. "Be always aware young one… or is it oblivious? I can never remember."

"Morrigan told us you've taken the Grey Warden treaties." Lyna added slowly, trying to redirect the conversation to something slightly more fruitful.

"Ah yes and before you begin parking, your precious seal worn off long ago." She disappeared into the hut for only a moment, as if they were waiting just inside the door frame. The witch really had been expecting them, Lyna believe that without a doubt now. "I've been protecting these."

"You- oh. You protected them?" Alistair gawked.

"What he means is thank you for returning them." Lyna added helpfully and earned another crackled laugh from the woman.

"Such manners, always in the last place you look. Like stockings!" With that she handed Lyna the documents and the elf's skilled hands rolled the old parchment up and slipped them into the pack she carried. "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

Morrigan, who'd been quiet the whole time, finally stepped forth. "Time for you to go, then."

"Ridiculous girl, these are your guests!"

The younger witch sighed. "Very well, I will show you back to the path that leads to the human camp."

With the treaties now in hand, they left the witches' hut peacefully. Morrigan escorted them only so far before slipping into the woods like a ghost. It sent shivers down the men's spine, but Lyna could still track her footprints and wasn't as easily impressed, at least not this time. She was still wondering how the witch had gotten the drop on her before.

Once the witch was long out of sight the elf stopped leaning against a tree, her hand on her chest. It finally hit her. "_Asha'bellanar_." She whispered, almost breathless, her hands drifting up to the tattoos painted on her head as if she was praying. "That was _Asha'bellanar_, even my people speak of her and her power… Creators, I feel as if we just cheated death. _Fen'harel_ won't be so inclined to look the other way next time…"

Alistair was shocked; she'd been so composed he hadn't realized at all that she was just as fearful of the Witch of the Wilds as they had been. They'd assumed she'd simply not known how dangerous Chasind Witches could be, that her actions were born out of ignorance rather than steadfast bravery. It was then that she'd gained the respect of not just Alistair, but all three men.

She let out a breath and stood, anxiety moving aside for the need to keep moving. They followed after her, Alistair coming up beside her to make sure she was alright. She glanced at him, her eyes still held apprehension from the meeting with the witch. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be turned into a toad? Granted, I wouldn't just walk up to a witch and ask for them to zap me into one, but if one was to say, give the option of experiencing life as a toad for a few hours and then turn back, I might just be curious enough to take them up on it."

Alistair looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "You actually think of these things?"

The Dalish smiled but it was faint, she was trying to find her way back to normal. The rambling helped, he guessed, like when Alistair himself made jokes to deflect from things, she talked to calm herself. "Sometimes I can't sleep; these things tend to keep me awake at night."

A half smile crossed his face and he shook his head. "And you called me a strange human."

"Oh, I'm perfectly normal for an elf." Lyna replied with a happy laugh, echoed by Alistair. Daveth and Jory didn't understand quite was going on and shot confused looks at each other.

The way back to the camp was uneventful, it seemed most of the scouting darkspawn had either fallen to the band's blades or had scurried back to their own kind. It left the Wilds feeling eerier then when they'd first entered. That and the impending setting sun did much to encourage them to pick up the pace.

It was dark anyway, when they finally crossed through the gate into camp. The four moved on towards Warden's tents, ready to return to Duncan, but Lyna slipped off into the blackness. She was only gone a hand full of minutes, but it earned her a slightly annoyed look form Alistair.

"Had to see a man about a dog." The Dalish replied with a wink.

Oh, he'd forgotten about that.

With their party whole again, the four returned to the firelight and the Warden-Commander.

"You've returned," Duncan commented catching sight of the group as they approached. "Were you successful?"

Lyna handed Duncan the scrolls, and Alistair had been the one to carry the vials of blood. They didn't bother with words, just the fruits of their labors.

"I had the mages preparing for the ceremony." Duncan replied to their unspoken deeds, carefully taking the items from the two. His eyes cast a heavy gaze across the group as he spoke. "Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may demand that price now, rather than later."

The words needn't be spoken; it was obvious what Duncan meant by a price, Lyna spoke softly, her voice hardly heard above the crackle of the fire. "Is this why it is so secret?"

"If it were unnecessary, if others could understand the necessity of such sacrifice, we would not keep it so guarded. Unfortunately that is not so." He added. Lyna couldn't fathom why not, but then, human customs were strange to her still, and she remembered thinking them prickly things. This was probably another one of those things.

"I'm anxious to see this joining," Daveth commented, his bravery returning now that the witches were gone.

They moved away from the campfire and loitered about in a secluded area, close to where Lyna first met Alistair, waiting for the final perorations to finish. Daveth seemed excited, almost; ready to get this thing over and done with. Jory was not so willing, sure that he'd already earned his place in the Order and that these tests were superfluous. They bantered back and forth like children, Lyna huffed a breath, sure she was the bravest one in there, and she was barely of age.

"It just doesn't seem fair." Jory muttered unhappily. "They should have told us."

"Would you have come if they did?" She liked Daveth, he had a point.

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade." Lyna tried not to snort at Jory's words, there were many foes like that, but his bellyaching went on until Alistair came to retrieve them.

"…The Grey Wardens were founded during the first blight, drank the blood of the darkspawn and mastered the taint." Duncan told them with a somber face as they approached a makeshift altar.

Jory took a step back. "We're going to drink the blood of those creatures?!" Lyna tried not to make a face, drinking blood wasn't something she looked forward to, but then, if this really was her cure she wouldn't _have_ much to look forward to before the taint took her.

"This is the source of our power. Those that survive become immune to the taint. We can sense it and use it to slay the archdemon." Alistair added, looking down at his feet.

The three recruits tried not to think about those that didn't survive, some more successful than others.

"We speak only a few words," Duncan went on. "But these have been said from the first. Alistair, if you will."

His head still down, but this time more in prayer rather than in admission. "Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn and if you should parish know that someday… we shall join you."

Satisfied, Duncan turned to the recruits. "Daveth, step forth."

The man took the chalice and drank. For a moment, it seemed nothing would happen. With a gargled cry he suddenly screamed in pain. His back twisted unnaturally as he fell to his knees. His neck bent painfully backwards, his eyes rolling back into his skull, the sound, _the sound_ he made would haunt Lyna forever. Finally it ended and the man slumped to the floor and did not move again.

"I am sorry, Daveth."

Daveth was dead.

"Jory, step forth."

"N-No." The knight trembled as he backed away, taking his blade into his hands. "I have a wife and child- If I would have known- You ask too much! There is no _glory_ in this-"

The chalice returned to the table and Duncan slid his own blade from its sheath.

"I am sorry, Jory."

Lyna watched in horror they fought, but it lasted only for an instant. Duncan knocked Jory's blade to one side and the dagger found a home in Jory's gut. His body fell to the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him. Duncan turned to her, the last, his bloody sword in one hand and the chalice of blood in the other.

"Lyna, Step forth."

There was no running from this, no fighting. Lyna was already tainted, already destined to die. She couldn't cower away like Jory had. A quick death now like Daveth's would be better than the slow and painful one the Taint within her already promised.

Dunan's eyes were heavy with remorse; it had not been easy for him to slay Jory. Lyna took the cup from his hands, holding it before her. Her eyes focused on the ring Marethari had given to her, and she wondered if she should make a last request, just in case, but thought better of it. Anything Lyna wanted to say, she would say herself.

"You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Lyna drank.

It burned its way down her throat. Metallic and vile, her body instinctively tried to expel the magic induced cocktail and she had to force herself to accept. The fire was seeping into every poor of her body. She had two options; die now, or die later. No, Lyna wanted to live. She _would_ live. She felt herself fall to the floor.

Images flashed in her mind, blackened scales dripping with a physical malice, thick and dark like blood. Glowing green eyes bore into her and a roar shook her down to her soul. The images were gone as fast as they came and she was left in blackness.

She awoke some time later, propped up against the stone wall. "Well… I didn't die. Does that mean I passed?"

"It is done." Duncan replied, relief in his voice. "Welcome."

"Had us worried there for a minute." Alistair muttered with a smile, offering her a hand and pulling her to her feet when she accepted it.

"I had… a dream." She mumbled, no, couldn't remember it, only that it had sent her heart into a panic. She was a bit unsteadily, but she was able to stand on her own, and waved away any help offered her. It might have been a bad choice as her head was swimming with vertigo, but she was a proud Dalish and that was a bit of a failing on her part.

"Many things will be explained to you in the months to come. Take some time, when you are ready I'd like the both of you to accompany me to a meeting with the king." Lyna nodded her acceptance, finding it hard to speak once she was on her feet and Duncan let her and Alistair be.

The former Templar watched him go a moment, before turning his attention back to Lyna. "I'm glad one of you managed to survive. Before I forget, there's one more part of the joining." A pendant was pressed into her hand, blood red liquid incased in heavy glass. "We take some of the blood and put it in a pendant to remind us of those who didn't make it this far. I'll see you in camp later."

Alistair left her then too and Lyna stared at the pendent for a long while her back against a stone wall for support. Daveth had been a good man, easy going and likeable most of the time, she would miss him. Jory… she felt like she hadn't given the man a chance. Lyna would never know what kind of man he really was and wondered if she should find his family if she ever came across Highever. She chose to remember him as honorable and brave when he knew what he fought. It was the least she could do for the dead. "_Falon'din, Shiral dar'di, abelas Elvarel enansal ar vhen'elgar se navir. Shiral ar, Falon'din, ar'an bora vavir. Shiral ar atisha darteh._"

A last prayer to the dead. She hoped they, or their Maker, wouldn't mind if she prayed for them.

She found Duncan gathered around a table with Boy-King Cailan and a man she'd not met. He and the king were arguing about where his place during the battle should be. Still, when she approached he greeted her warmly. "I understand congratulations are in order."

"_Ma serannas,_" She paused, remembering their conversation from the road earlier. "My thanks. Your majesty."

Cailan's words were kind, but the man beside him, the one he'd been arguing with before snapped at him angrily. Lyna listened with only half an ear. Cailan wanted to play the hero, if nothing else, the other man Loghain, if she remembered the name right, would be able to swoop in and claim victory of the battle for himself. At least, that's how much she understood from the battle plans; a little Dalish elf was no general.

What she did understand was that she and Alistair where given the task of climbing the tower on the other side of the fortress to light the beacon and signal Loghain's men to charge. The general seemed displeased with the idea. Granted Lyna was too, she didn't want to stand at the top of a tower and watch the fighting from a safe place like some _dal'en,_ but the king had called her and Alistair 'their best.'

"If it's not that dangerous, I could do it myself." She replied, no need for both of them to walk up a few flights of stairs. The king however disagreed with that idea, much to the displeasure of Loghain.

Really, who kicked his puppy?

In the end it was decided that both she and Alistair would climb the tower of Ishal together and oversee the lighting. Alistair was less than happy with this when he learned about it later, but there was little she or Duncan could do, as the king had requested him personally.

"I tried, cheer up." She replied, "The king must think a lot of you."

Alistair only frowned.

From the forest came the darkspawn, the fires from their torches giving the fog at their feet an otherworldly light. There were hundreds, thousands maybe, more than double it seemed then the army gathered at the foot of Ostagar. The mabari howled as the burning arrows flew and then they were given the order to charge. Vicious growls and wails of pain could be heard even from so high up from the war dogs as they took on the first wave of darkspawn. Lyna couldn't watch, the sound was enough, she would have preferred to be down there in the fighting where the adrenaline would drown out any other sense besides her and her opponent. Forced to watch and wait was torture.

Finally Alistair stood straight. "There- the signal."

Catapults hurled burning masses of tar and rock, smashing into the bridge as she and Alistair attempted to cross. One projectile came so close that its impact on the archway beneath them knocked the two wardens to the ground. Lyna was back on her feet in an instant, Alistair behind her a moment later and they resumed their mad dash. The tower doors were in sight.

"Someone! Help!" A solider called out, scrambling into their path. Behind him a lone circle mage leaned against a stone wall, healing a wound. "The tower's been overrun by darkspawn!"

Both wardens swore under their breath.

True enough, darkspawn flooded from the tower's entrance they did their best to help the remaining guards, the solider and mage agreeing to help them reach the beacon, but they were always a moment too late. More than once the mage said the wounds were beyond him and the kindest thing they could do was a mercy killing.

The first floor of the tower was infested with the fowl creatures. Broken bodies and piles of half eaten flesh were scattered haphazardly across the ground. Lyna passed by something that couldn't be anything but a skull, picked clean of flesh. "This… doesn't happen in a few hours." The words came soft, and she was sure the others didn't hear her over the sound of their own horror. They were probably all thinking about it, so it hardly mattered.

Up a head her ears caught a snarl that had become far too familiar.

Too late she realized the floor was booby trapped, and though her arrow struck the darkspawn between the eyes, its magic still lit the ground ablaze. The heat was blistering, and forced them to stick far too close together. Darkspawn charged them, unafraid of the fire though some were smart enough to use bows; she and the mage did away with them as quickly as possible. Lyna soon had to swap bow for blades, her companions were getting in the way of any shot she tried to make. Luck would have it that the fire was contained in the main area, the rooms beyond were free of the blaze and they were able to make use of their better skills.

She directed Alistair and the solider to take the front, warriors; they could handle the brunt of any attacks. She and the mage hung back covering them with magic and arrows and when a darkspawn broke free of the two fighters, she, the rogue, was ready to cut them down and protect the physically weaker member of their group. Finally the stairs to the upper level was in sight.

The second floor was eerily quiet. Lyna and Alistair could both sense darkspawn, but the feeling was overpowering. It was hard to tell just how close or how far the creatures actually were, more so for her, having only been a warden a scant few hours now. It was Alistair who called out a warning when the doors on both sides of them flew open with a crash and two bands of darkspawn flanked them.

The mage was pushed to his limits casting off healing spells anytime one of them took too hard of a blow, but the warriors were able to knock the darkspawn down and the rogue picked off the weakened opponents before they could rise again.

By the third floor they were physically exhausted, blades and shields feeling twice as heavy in hand, and the mage was nearing his end for spells, sucking greedily at a blue potion. Lyna wasn't sure what it was, but it brought some of the man's energy back. There were fewer darkspawn waiting for them at the top of the stairs and Lyna was able to sneak forward without the spawn knowing. They were too busy torturing the mabari trapped in their kennels.

What a surprise they got when the doors flipped open and the mabari roared out with a vengeance. The dogs were more than happy to clear the floor for the tired party and give them a chance to catch their breath, but couldn't be convinced to climb the stairs and fight on. They were forced to leave them behind, though Lyna hoped they'd at least be able to persuade the hounds to leave the tower on the way back down.

They climb the last set of stairs, the end almost within reach.

On the top floor a massive beast waited for them. It chomped on what was once a hominid of some kind, but was now nothing more than a broken husk of mauled flesh and bone. It turned as they approached blood and entrails dripping down its jaws and snarled, splattering the group with spittle and whatever was in its mouth a moment before.

The ogre charged.

The two warriors attacked the monstrosity with abandon. Lyna's arrows found homes in its face, peppering it like a grotesque porcupine. It snatched up the solider crushing the man with an iron grip as it tried to crush his skull with its other fist. Only the mage's magic kept the man alive long enough for Lyna to cause enough damage to the darkspawn's wrist and force it to drop him. The solider fell back for a moment to regain his breath before throwing back into the fray, this time mindful of its clutching hands.

Lyna's arrows ran dry before the darkspawn would fall, and she was forced to take daggers in hand. She fluttered in and out of the ogre's reach, scoring hits to sensitive spots, always mindful of the bestial strength the ogre possessed. If it snatched her up, there would be no amount of magic able to save her.

Finally the Ogre stumbled from the wound Alistair left on its calf and Lyna was on it in an instant. Using its bent knee as a step up she leaped at the things chest, a dagger digging through flesh and bone for a hold. She twisted in midair, finding purchase on its shoulder as she slit the darkspawn's neck. Its momentum carried it backwards even as its hands reached out to grab her. She batted the bulbous appendage away with the blade that had until a moment before had been sheathed in its chest before flipping her grip on the dagger and plunging it in between ribs and into the ogre's heart.

It hit the ground with Lyna standing triumphantly on its chest.

"The beckons!" She called to the mage in their group, all three of them standing rather slack jawed, staring at her rather than acting. She hopped off the beast's chest just as the mage pulled himself together for a fireball and the beckon roared to life.

"That was amazing." Alistair mumbled, and Lyna shrugged. Sure, it had been big, but she was a Dalish hunter after all and there was little she feared. Darkspawn was not on that list.

They had about five seconds to be proud of themselves.

As if summoned by the blazing fire itself a swarm of darkspawn filled the floor. They were surrounded in an instant, swords clashing against swords. They were tired, so tired, a gargled cry as someone took a blade- that had been just behind her- she twisted, fending off one attacker and then the next.

Alistair fell to a pummel strike to his back.

Lyna turned again, trying to reach his side.

An arrow intended for her heart dug into her shoulder. She cut the shaft with a dagger before shifting it into the neck of another darkspawn.

Another arrow lodged somewhere between her shoulders.

The Dalish staggered and fell.

* * *

In actuality it was the third time she'd awoken delirious and in pain, counting her joining. Lyna really _was_ making a habit of this. She found herself stripped down to her smallclothes, her left shoulder and most of her chest wrapped tightly in a long white strip of cloth. Lyna touched it gently; the pain was numbed by a thick wad of herbs she could almost recognize by smell alone. Considering that she was tended to by two very powerful witches, Lyna guessed that it would heal just fine if she left it be.

Good thing too, because Lyna didn't know much about healing herself.

Finally her eyes turned back to Morrigan who was waiting, her arms crossed over her chest and a small twitch in her eye. Too many visitors for her, Lyna knew the feeling all too well. "Did you save me, Morrigan?"

"T'was not I. Mother was the one who rescued you and your companion from the top of that tower and tended your wounds. I merely changed your bandages."

"What happened? Why didn't..?"

"The man who was supposed to answer your call… quit the field. The king is dead and darkspawn won your battle that day." Morrigan didn't strike her as the compassionate type, the fact that she was at least trying to be sympathetic to what had happened wasn't lost to the Dalish.

"Thank you, Morrigan."

The woman seemed a bit taken back and stuttered a bit as she spoke next. "I did nothing, as I've said; it was mother who did most of the work."

"Still, thank you all the same." The thank you was doubled as the woman handed Lyna her equipment.

"You… are welcome." Giving her a moment to redress, Morrigan went on. "Your friend is waiting outside; he did not take the news of your order's death as well as you."

Lyna sighed. No, she hadn't. She just refused to think about it right now. Fully dress, her armor sitting less than comfortably over the wound on her back, she stood and made her way to the door. "I've only chosen to deal with it at a later time. I should go talk to him."

"An apt decision on both counts. I… will make something to eat."

Alistair fell on her with a great hug the moment she stepped from the hut, crushing her to his chest. "I was so worried." He mumbled. Lyna let him have a moment, but it was getting hard to breath. She patted him on the back then push gently, well it was gently to him _she_ had to put quite a bit of force into it, on his chest to let her go.

Finally she turned to Morrigan's mother. "You _are_ the _Asha'bellanar,_ are you not? Morrigan tells me you are responsible for saving us, thank you." She bowed her head, twisting her wrists outwards in respect. Lyna only held that pose for a moment before meeting eyes with her once again.

"Ah, The People are always so respectful." The woman said with a laugh. "Took you long enough to figure it out though."

"Ash-bell-what now?" Alistair stumbled over the elven words.

"It means woman of many years, or simply old hag, one of many names given to me, pretty, but a bit of a mouthful. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth if you prefer." Morrigan's mother cackled again at that. Wide as a deer's went Alistair's eyes, like Daveth's had done before.

"Daveth was right; you really are a Witch of the Wilds." He glanced Lyna's way, accusation heavy in his voice. "You knew? You didn't tell us."

A hand on her hip, her stance staggered, but unlike for the kennelmaster, this time her posture carried her anger. It wasn't her fault she didn't know the stories the way humans told them. "I did too; I only know her by the Dalish name."

"I- You… You're right." There was a drop in his shoulders. "I apologize."

"There are a bit more pressing matters to attend to, don't you agree?" Femeth cut in. "It's the Grey Warden's duty to rid the land of darkspawn and end the blight, or has that changed while I wasn't looking?"

"We'd nearly done just that," Alistair was nearly pulling his hair out over the wicked turn of events. "The king had nearly defeated them, why would Loghain do this?"

"A good question," Lyna and Femeth both answered at the same time, earning another cackle from the witch, but she suddenly turned solemn. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any taint. Perhaps he doesn't realize the true threat is the evil behind the Blight."

"The archdemon."

"We can't do this alone." Lyna added. Gray Wardens were needed to kill the corrupted dragon-god that much she knew, but they were the only two left in Ferelden. There was little chance they could accomplish such a momentous task on their own. She knew little of what it meant to be a Warden, and Alistair was her senior by only a few months. "Is there a way to contact other Wardens?"

"We might not have time, traveling to Orlias would take too long and they are the closest Grey Warden forces we have." Alistair groaned shaking his head. "If Arl Eamon knew- if the Landsmeet knew, they would never stand for this!"

"Arl… Eamon?" A title, sure, but how important did that this man? Lyna vaguely remembered the name being dropped by Cailan when she'd met him outside the tower of Isal.

"I know him, he's a good man and King Cailan's uncle, and if we go to Redcliffe he would help us." Alistair's mood improved at the thought, but Lyna wasn't convinced. She was forced to assume exactly what power an Arl held and figured it was something like a clan, and this Eamon was the Keeper with others that followed him. The Landsmeet, she thought, must be like the _Arlathvhen,_ a gathering of clans. Of course, humans probably did this on a much grander scale.

But Loghain would have the _arlath-_ the landsmeet behind him, there was no way one man could change the minds of every Keep- every Arl there. "I doubt that will be enough, isn't there anything else?"

"Of course, the treaties!" Not quite what she meant, but Alistair rolled on. "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and others. They're obligated to help us during a blight."

"Hmm. Dwarves, Elves and mages, along with this Arl Eamon… I might be old, but this sounds like an army." There was a sly smile on the woman's face, like she knew something she wasn't telling them, but then, she was _Asha'bellanar._

Alistair wasn't fazed, or didn't notice, probably the later. "Do you think we can do it, go to these places and gather an army?"

Lyna sighed; this wasn't how she'd expected things to go. Once again her house of twigs was crumbling. It wasn't as bad this time, maybe the shock of it was easier to deal with a second time around. For a moment she thought of abandoning this human, finding her clan in the north and living out her life the way a Dalish should.

Duncan's disapproving face flashed in her mind.

No, she couldn't let him down, even after death. It was her life she owed him and Lyna had to live in a way that would honor his sacrifice. "…We're the only ones who can. We are the only wardens this land has… we have to do it."

"So you are set then."

She turned again to Flemeth, giving another short bow. "Yes, I think so. Thank you _Asha'bellanar,_ you've been kind to us and we owe you a great deal."

"You'll owe me a great deal more soon enough."

As if on cue Morrigan exited the hut. "The stew is bubbling mother dear; shall we be having guests this eve'?"

"The wardens are leaving shortly and you are going with them, girl."

"A shame… w-what?!"

The witch was grinning. "You heard me, girl."

"If Morrigan does not wish to join us…" Lyna didn't want to be the one to force the witch to do anything. Her mother might be able to handle her, but Lyna doubted she'd be able to push her if Morrigan didn't want to do something.

"She has been itching to get out of this swamp for years. Consider this repayment for your lives, Wardens."

"Mother… this is not how I wanted this…"

"They need you, Morrigan; alone they must fight the darkspawn and unite Ferelden." The sincerity in the woman voice had all three of them silenced. "Without you they _will_ fail. All will parish, even I."

Morrigan sighed. "I… understand."

Convincing her daughter done, she then turned to the wardens, her eyes especially on Lyna. "Wardens, I am giving you that which I value most in this world, because you must succeed. Do _you_ understand?"

"… Yes, _Asha'bellanar._ She will not come to harm with us."

Alistair however, wasn't sold on the idea. "We're taking her along, because her mother said so?"

No, Lyna thought, they were taking her along because a very powerful and seemingly immortal Witch told them that if they didn't, the blight will never be stopped. She however decided it was best to be a bit gentler with her wording. "We need help in any form, and it's not wise to doubt _Asha'bellanar_." It seemed to quite the man, though he was obviously not at ease with the idea.

That finally settled Morrigan turned back to the hut. "If you please, I will fetch my things…"

She returned a short while later with a pack and suggested a human village to the north of the wilds as their destination. Lyna agreed, though she was not thrilled with the idea of entering a human settlement.

Another thank you to the Witch of the Wilds and finally they were on their way.

* * *

Falon'din, Shiral dar'din, Abelas Elvarel enansal ar vhen'elgar se navir. Shiral ar, Shiral ar, Falon'din, ar'an bora vavir. Shiral ar atisha darteh. ; _Falon'Din, journey with those who are not, With sorrow The people gift our spirit to your path. Journey with us, Falon'Din for we have lost the way. Journey with us peacefully and safely._  
_-I am no linguist, so forgive any butchering. _

_Might I point out that Flemeth's dialogue actually hints that Daveth and Jory are going to die? It made me giggle when I realized this, such an amazing character she is. And yes, Lyna recognizes Flemeth as Asha'bellanar in the first meeting, but the Dalish do not call her Flemeth, so the name didn't spark recognition in the humans, I enjoy these things._


	5. Chapter 5

_And here the time line is mine to mess with as I like!_

_I'm going to call weeks here 'tendays', because 'weeks' sounds too modern to me and Thedas has a 12 month calendar with 30 days each (did you know this? They're even named! I was AMAZED wikis are good for _everything, _and I am easily amused__), also because I'm a huge Dragonlance/Forgotten Realms fan. It doesn't seem logical that they'd break things up into 7 day increments. For the record, travel from one side of Ferelden takes about a 'tenday' and a half (about 2 weeks) and that number is as arbitrary as I feel like making it at any given time. _

_…I thought there was only one way to spell 'hoard' learning two new things in one day is disheartening sometimes. /sigh_

_ I am pleased to introduce my favorite character, and I hope I do him justice. No, not the dog. I do like that dog though.  
_

* * *

From Morrigan Lyna learned she'd been asleep for several days. It took just as long, if not longer for the small group to pick their way across the wilds and avoid the massive horde of darkspawn that still lingered in the area. Wardens could sense the beasts, but in turn, they could also sense them. At least at a distance the two wardens were as unnoticeable as insects in comparison to the noise of the arm of darkspawn and they only managed to draw the attention of small scouting parties.

Lyna found little sleep as they crossed the Wilds. Nightmares plagued her the moment she closed her eyes; visions of dragons and deep dark caves with a vast army of twisted and blackened creatures. Alistair told her all Wardens having them that the blight made them worse and that most learned to block them out after a time, but didn't have an answer as to how. Lyna sighed at his unhelpfulness. Sleep was acquired in fits and when she could no longer force her eyes closed, she went to her companions for distractions.

Many of those long nights were spent with just Lyna and Alistair, Morrigan prefer to isolate herself as far away from the main fire as she possibly could and only ever spoke if Lyna came to talk with her. Alistair was happy to leave her be, but the Dalish had gotten over her trepidation of the witch and asked any question she thought she might actually get an answer out of. The little elf seemed to grow on the witch and the more Lyna came to visit, the easier it was to speak with her.

With Alistair, Lyna had a comradely. They joked and laughed, but they never seemed to talk about real issues. Alistair didn't seem to want to deal with them, always deflecting with humor and Lyna let him, thinking him not ready to deal with it; everyone mourns in their own time.

Between Alistair and Morrigan however, there wasn't much chemistry. They at least tolerated each other, so that was something, Lyna guessed.

They finally found a well-traveled road and Alistair declared they were only a few hours outside Lothering when Lyna's sharp ears caught the sound of something approaching. It grunted and huffed as it came down the hillside, the size of a small pony it leaped over a broken fencing with ease and slid to a stop before the companions.

A mabari.

The dog breathed a tired woof, and then turned his gaze to the road before them, his ears pressing against his skull and a low growl echoing in his throat. Alistair and Lyna felt them just before they crested the rise; darkspawn.

The darkspawn really didn't stand a chance.

When the last of the creatures had been put down by the combined might of the unlikely force, the mabari trotted over to Lyna laying down at her feet and demanding a belly rub. The Dalish could only laugh and bent down to oblige.

Alistair cleaned the blood off his sword. "I think that's the same mabari you helped. He's… chosen you. Mabari are strange like that."

"Imprinting, right?" The mabari rolled over and Lyna moved on to his ears. "Guess there's no sense in telling him things will be dangerous and he shouldn't follow then."

"He'll need a name." Alistair commented helpfully, a grin spreading on his face. "Oh! Name him Barkspawn."

Lyna snorted. "That's a stupid name."

"Oh come on, you know it's funny."

The Dalish elf rolled her eyes at him. Names were not meant to be funny; they needed to speak something of the person who they were given to. "How about… Falonel?"

"That's not funny at all."

"I wasn't talking to you," She turned back to the dog, whose attention was stolen away by a leaf moving in the breeze. "Do you like it?"

The Mabari barked in approval, scratching an itch by his ear with his hind leg.

"We now have a dog and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the party." Morrigan commented dryly earning an annoyed look from the former Templar in question.

Lothering Lay before them.

* * *

Kill Grey Wardens.

What could be harder, or so he'd thought. Throw himself at the fabled Grey Wardens, even they would be a match for an Antivan Crow. He'd taken the job, he knew what he wanted, but he was never one to go out without a fight. So why not fight an impossible enemy? It seemed perfect, except for one thing.

She was only a child.

It was the first thing about the warden that stuck him, besides being an elf like himself. He'd arrived at Lothering ahead of them; the Teyrn informing him that if any Wardens had survive Ostagar they would most likely head to the decrepit little town, if it wasn't overrun by darkspawn first, and was there to watch quietly when they'd arrived along the Imperial Highway. They'd been stopped by the pitiful band of highwaymen.

"These ones dun look like refugees." A rather simple man commented, his tongue nearly hanging out his mouth as he spoke. Not in desire, more like a dog who couldn't keep the drool from dripping down his face. "And these ones got weapons. M'be we should let'em go."

The ring leader replied with an annoyed breath. "Nonsense, it's a toll, not refugee tax. Everyone must pay."

And she blinked _innocently._ "We have to pay a toll?"

"They're bandits," The human, another warden, male told her. "They've probably been robbing people blind for days."

"I say we teach them a lesson." The other human, a woman and an apostate if the staff was any indication, was beautiful with a dangerous air, just his type really. Ferelden was so novel; he was far less used to seeing women take up arms, not unheard of in his lands, but also uncommon.

They both, however, turned to _her_ expectantly. Not only a woman, but a child barely of age and they let her take charge? Then again, it was refreshing to see one of his own kind not falling in line behind the humans for once. She turned to regard the highwaymen.

Ah, that explained it; she was _Dalish_.

"You wouldn't want to mess with Grey Wardens." She muttered and he was surprised by how much venom she could muster. Suddenly she wasn't a child, she was a wild-elf, unpredictable and dangerous and the bandits could see it too.

"Them ones killed the king." The simple man commented.

The human male took a sharp breath, it must be the first time they heard such accusations. To the Dalish's credit, her hand only tightened on her dagger.

"Ah, well then... We should leave you to your darkspawn-fighting, king-killing ways then."

Had he not added the last part they would have been free to go, he had watched her hand relax as the threat of a fight seemed to pass. He and his men might have left with no harm done, but the words _king-killing _ passed his lips and in that instant her daggers were drawn. "Let's add bandit slaying to that list." She replied with a snarl that made him think of a dragon.

They summarily put down the highwaymen; she didn't give chase when the surviving ones raced off. Rather, her blades flicked from her hands into their sheaths and her bow and arrows slipped into her hands in a fluid motion. The arrows flew in rapid succession, knocking down the last remaining men without remorse.

There was hope for this yet, he thought.

They would probably remain in Lothering the night, plenty of time for him to gather what he needed for an ambush. Highwaymen. Bandits. He had to keep from clucking at the thought, least that mabari hear him. He glanced back one more time, over hearing them bicker quietly over what to do next. When they knew their destination, he would too.

Tomorrow, plenty of time.

* * *

Sour was not the word to describe Lyna's mood. As much as she hadn't wanted to, she was about to let the bandits go, _again_. It was almost a relief that the leader had struck a chord in her and she was given the excuse to cut him down, but that only worsened her demeanor. Morrigan had an unpleasant gleam in her eyes when she cut down the fleeing men, arrows lodged perfectly in between vertebra. Alistair looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Did he not know how hard life was for the Dalish? Was it really so surprising that she could be smiles and laughter then in an instant switch to a killer?

"I have a problem with bandits and raiders." She told him flatly, and that seemed to spark understanding in him. At the very least he stopped looking at her like she'd grown another head. Lyna could only thank the Creators that the dog didn't seem to care one way or another.

_Bandits, raiders, killed my father, killed my mother in the end._ The thought was so powerful it made her steps falter. If anyone noticed they didn't say anything. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such things, she pushed it back out of her mind where it belonged.

A dagger, a much smaller one then those she normally used to fight slipped into her grip and she walked over to the fallen men. Two of them had died instantly, but one shot had been just slightly off and he struggled in vain, paralyzed by the arrow lodged in his neck. The dagger was for his throat, but the blade itself was intended for mercy killing, to end the suffering of a hunted animal as quickly and painlessly as possible. It was more kindness then he deserved.

"Lothering, pretty as a painting," Alistair said conversationally, motioning to the small village when Lyna rejoined them. He had to be joking; there was nothing pretty about it. The village was grimy, building in disarray, sagging old wood leaning against one another for support. There were tents set up to one side, displaced people milling about before they ran from the blight yet again and the _smell_. Although, that had little to do with how it looked, but Lyna's nose wrinkled anyway, she'd _thought_ the camp at Ostagar was bad.

"Ah, now he rejoins us. Falling on your blade too much trouble?" Lyna wondered idly if there was a cure for Morrigan's snideness.

"Is me being upset hard to understand?" It didn't help that Alistair could never stop himself from rising to the bait.

Having had just about enough of them, Lyna stepped in before they could continue. "Alistair, what did you want to talk about?"

"His navel." The Dalish elf shot her a look and for once Morrigan relented. Lyna wasn't sure if that was a show of respect or if the witch was just bored of this game. To think, for a moment Lyna thought they could at least tolerate each other.

"We should probably discuss where to go next." He pulled out carefully rolled scrolls from his pack. "Duncan had left the treaties with me... With them we can demand aid from the Dwarves of Orzammar, the Circle of Magi and the Dalish elves. We can also ask Arl Eamon for help, and you may want to consider going there first."

Lyna flinched a bit at the mention of her people, knowing her clan was long gone, but that another, much larger clan made its home in the forests of Ferelden almost year round. She didn't like the idea of forced aid from them. 'Never submit' was something that was ingrained in her mind and in her bones, but if her people signed the document then they must abide by their word. Honor was not something the Dalish took lightly.

That however, was not the pressing matter on her mind, it was the way Alistair had worded his last statement. He had said 'you' not 'we'. "You're leaving this up to me?"

Alistair wouldn't look her in the eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well I don't know. I'll do whatever you decide."

"I-" Lyna began. She didn't know what to do either. She was a Dalish elf; she hardly knew anything about humans besides what Duncan was able to lecture her on in a scant few days. Alistair was, in effect, pushing her forward as a leader of their tiny band when she probably was least qualified of them, baring the Mabari. Even Morrigan had more experience with humans then she did. Alistair had been a warden longer, and he understood his own culture better then she could he would have been better stepping forward. The man however, had balked at the responsibility leaving her holding the reigns and didn't seem to care that she was just as lost as he would be.

"I'll figure something out," Lyna resigned softly feeling instantly abandoned and losing all will to fight back. Alistair had his opinion and gave it, but said he would do whatever she decided. He better not complain if she chose another way. "I'll need to see a map."

"There's an inn in town we can stay the night at, I'm sure they have a map we can borrow or buy." Lyna was hardly listening to him, she was faintly aware that Morrigan had made another sarcastic comment, and Alistair had bit back. Rather than listen to them argue, again, Lyna wandered into town. The mabari followed her loyally while the rest of her group seemed too preoccupied to notice her departure.

More than a few of the _shemlen _gave her suspicious looks as she walked, but it was better than them not noticing she was Dalish at all, she reasoned and ignored them. She might have been a little wide eyed, despite the ransacked appearance of the shanty town; Lyna had never been _inside_ a human settlement before. Some of the buildings were made much strong, out of stone and bricks rather than wood. She put her hands on a stone wall; the only fences she had ever seen had been made out of sticks and broke with the gentlest of touches.

Farther ahead of her another stone structure stood, a bridge, arched and rounded over the slow moving stream. Lyna wondered how they'd accomplished such a thing, what it was that made the rocks stay in their sloped form and how could it possibly be safe to walk across. She watched several humans do just that, so it wasn't unsafe, it was even normal. The elf shook her head; they would always remind her of that poem. _Like Dragons…_

"Kin' someone 'elp me?" A small voice called out and a moment later a small boy with flaming red hair came over the rise of the bridge. He was looking to the other humans for help, but one spared him a second glance, too busy with their own troubles.

Lyna couldn't watch it for another second and approached, he was nothing but a child but no one else would help, kneeling down in front of him. "What are you doing out here alone, _Dal'en_?"

The boy sniffed, rubbing his eyes. He seemed a little unsure that someone had finally spoken to him. "I… I can't find me mum. Mean with swords came to the farm. Mum told me to run so I did, but she didn't follow me. Have you seen her?"

The Dalish frowned faintly. "I haven't, but we can look for her if you like."

"Mum told me not to leave the village." The boy said with a shake of his head.

There was little Lyna could do if he wouldn't come with her, but she didn't blame him. She wouldn't have trusted a random _shemlen_ to help her any more then this boy could trust a random elf. "Alright, if I find her I'll come looking for you, okay? What does she look like?"

"Oh thank you, she's really pretty and has red hair like mine." He pulled on a lock of his own hair. It wasn't much to go on, but it would do. If she was lucky red hair wouldn't be as common as it was among the Dalish. "If mum doesn't come soon, I'll go to the Chantry over there." He pointed to the building Lyna had just past, the one made of stone. "So… umm. Are you an elf?"

Lyna couldn't help a light laugh, and tugged on one of her own ears. "Did these give it away?"

The boy beamed a bit, his first smile since she first spoke to him. "Da' says elves are nasty, but you're nicer than anyone else here. Thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome _dal'en_, if I find your mamae I'll bring her right to you." The boy smiled again, and trotted off, probably to keep an eye out for his mother for a while longer, but he was in a better spirits then when he first spoke to her that made Lyna feel much better.

She waited on the bridge for several minutes before Alistair and Morrigan finally saw fit to join her. Lyna had come to the conclusion that the stone building on the other side of the bridge was the inn, if only because of all the people going in and out, or loitering about its front. She only spared them a glance before walking on, still a bit miffed at both of them.

Stale beer and a smell that Lyna was beginning to think was just _human_ hit her in the face as she swung open the door. The building was dim compared to the blinding light of the sun outside and it took her cat-like eyes a half moment to adjust. She did notice, as she blinked the gloom away that the common room went half a tone quieter the moment she walked in.

"Were we not asking for an elf of this very description? Seems like the people here have lied to us, boys." The man that approached her was dressed in shinny armor with markings that reminded her vaguely of the ones she saw at Ostagar and some wicked looking steel strapped to his back. "There's a pretty bounty on your head, knife-ear."

It came to her just as Alistair spoke up. "Loghain's men, this _can't_ be good."

"Now, now, no need to jump to conclusions." The woman who spoke up was dressed in long robes embroidered with a sun, or maybe it was intended to be an open eye, Lyna couldn't tell, across her chest. Either way she looked rather harmless; throwing herself in front of enraged soldiers was only going to get her killed. "These are obviously poor refugees in need of shelter."

"Do not play me for a fool sister, I was at Ostagar. Loghain saved us from the betrayal of the Grey Wardens after _they_ killed King Calian." Lyna's lips twitched at that. So the man _was_ spreading lies that the Wardens were at fault, when their only short coming had been not pushing the point of the blight harder. It was Loghain that betrayed the people of this land.

_Loghain killed Duncan._

"So that's the story." Lyna couldn't help the snarl in her voice, her hands resting on the hilt of her weapons. "It was Loghain who abandoned the king to die; even you're a simple _shemlen_ like you should be able to see that."

"Enough!" The knight snapped, pulling his sword out of its saber and holding it level with Lyna's head. "Take the Wardens into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else who tries to help them."

Lyna wasn't impressed. Even with all their shiny armor the soldiers fell to quick stabs and a few blasts of magic. The sister, as the man had called her, had even joined in the fray wielding a short sword with an expertise that even Lyna hadn't seen coming. The knight captain fell back, his sword clattering to the ground, his hands before him.

"We surrender!" He gasped pathetically, his voice hitting several notes higher now that it was his life in danger and not the other way around. It was now Lyna's dagger that was level with the man's head. Loghain was the reason Duncan was dead, and yet mindlessly ignorant _shemlen_ like him followed that man. Lyna was angry, angry with them all.

The point of her dagger drew blood from the man's neck as his Adam's apple bobbed.

The woman who tried to stop the fighting before it began grabbed her hand, and Lyna almost turned her dagger on her. "They surrender, show mercy."

What was this, that she was almost ready to attack a woman who'd done nothing but help? Still angry, but now with herself, the Dalish elf shut her eyes and pointed to the door. Her voice was sounded far away to her own ears. "Run. Now."

The _shemlen_ was smart enough to heed the command without any farther comment.

The wooden door clattered shut as the last of the remaining soldiers stumbled out the door. After a moment the woman let go of Lyna's arm and the Dalish sheathed her weapons.

"Thank you." The woman was saying, but Lyna found it hard to listen, her mind still puzzling over her own actions. She was living up to every bad impression the _shemlen_ had of the Dalish. Wasn't it she that Tam- that _he_ had always called 'too kind'? Where had that girl gone, and who was it that stood in her place? Lyna didn't have the answer, and it frightened her more than a little. She barely caught the words as the woman kept speaking. "I am Leliana, You're Grey Wardens, yes? I expect you'll need help against the blight, so I'm coming along."

"You… want to come with us?" Lyna's voice was skeptical; Morrigan had come at the behest of her mother. Alistair was here because she was the only other grey warden in all of Ferelden. The mabari was here because he was a dog and they did things like that. Everyone had a motive and as a Dalish Lyna might be, might have once been, overly lenient with _shemlen_, but she was never one to trust them easily. "Why?"

Leliana looked a little embarrassed. "Oh… well, The Maker told me too."

Lyna cleared her throat, at the very least trying to keep the religious bite out of her voice. "The Maker… told you."

"I know it sounds crazy," The chantry woman added quickly throwing her hands up in defense. "But I had a dream… a vision. I'm meant to help you."

"More crazy? I thought we were full up." The tip of Lyna's bow bruised Alistair's thigh.

Lyna took a deep breath. This was always a topic that got her, and any party member involved in more trouble than either person could handle. "You do know I don't believe in your Maker, yes?"

"Oh, I know." The Dalish was ready for some spiritual prattle about how it was never too late to convert, even braced herself for it, prepared to –calmly this time- tell the woman that she would not be accepted. Instead Leliana stunned her. "But what you're meant to do is good. Whether it's with the Maker's blessing or the Creator's, it doesn't matter and I'm called to help that."

For a moment the elf was a bit dumbstruck, a _shemlen_ that didn't force their pious views was something she had not expected. It was so surprising that Lyna found herself saying; "Okay, if we can agree on _that,_ I won't deny someone who truly wants to help us." As long as Leliana didn't preach about the Maker, Lyna couldn't see reason why not to allow her to join. Wardens take help were they could get it after all.

With what little coin they had, they were able to find a room at the inn. Though it was more like _space_ then room, the town was so full of refuges and people in need that anything more would be impossible to find. Lyna poured over a map, trying to decide what their course of action should be. More than once her mind froze and only one thought would repeat in her head.

_I don't know._

This ever growing group looked to her to guide them. She was no keeper, never met to be, but this is what they expected of her. She could only stare at parchment for so long. Her head hurt with the effort and finally she simply stood up suddenly, garnering everyone's attention. "The Mages. That tower, we're going there first." She finally said frustration washing out of her the moment she spoke the words and no one voiced an argument.

They would leave that morning; with most of the people fleeing Lothering as the darkspawn was very near. Rest was the best option now that the course was set. They all turned in for the night.

Once the Warden's group vacated the common room a silent observer slipped out the back door and into the fading light.

* * *

Lyna had something she needed to do. More so, she needed out. Away from these _shemlen_, away from this weight she felt too weak to carry, but bore anyway. Not for long, just a few hours to rest her mind and give her solitude. Her companions slept peacefully, they would never be the wiser.

The moon hung heavy in the sky as Lyna slipped out of the ramshackle structure of an inn. She drifted from building to building, hiding in the shadows and out of sight of the few guards that patrolled the night. A time or two she was forced to cover her eyes as a lantern passed just a little too close, elven eyes tended to shine in low light and she was far too large to be mistaken for a cat. No, she couldn't be found.

At the edge of town, were the buildings met and gave way to the river and the river gave way to the broken stone of the highway, she slipped through the broken passage. Soft sand from the embankment marked her passage as she walked and freed herself from the oppressive town, but soon enough river shore gave way to grass and hard stone and her prints were lost. She passed through at least two tended farmlands, long abandoned with doors kicked in by raiders. Lyna had no interest in these things.

She crept silently along.

There were far fewer guards out this far from town, and she slipped by them easily. Finally farmland gave way to wilder wood and she took off at a run for the shelter of the trees. It felt good, like going back home. She paused a moment, easing her breath and calming hear heart to listen. Elven ears and sharp cat-like eyes told her no one had followed her and she traveled on.

She found a suitable spot, a small clearing that wasn't crowded by other trees and slipped to her knees. The earth was easy to move, and her small hands dug into the ground, dirt caking under her nails. She dusted her hands off on her leather before digging into a small pouch and producing a tiny seed. It slipped into the hole and dirt was piled on top of it again, water from her skin packed the earth down. Lyna shifted, resting her hands around the small patch of disturbed earth and drew in a breath.

Her hands began to glow.

"_Seth'lin,_" She hissed at herself as the magic sparked, her connection to the beyond snapping suddenly shut, she pulled back for just a second wringing her hands from the pain. "You're a keepers daughter, you can do this much."

Sweat was running down her face, and it felt like hours had gone by before tinny little green leaves poked free of the dirt. When the little shoot was about an inch high Lyna leaned back with a sigh.

"It's not my favorite, but it'll have to do." She mumbled to the sapling when her heavy breathing eased just a bit. Her accent sounded heavy, even in her own ears. It was a strange to notice such a thing and probably came from listening to Alistair and Morrigan talk for so long. Their new acquaintance Leliana spoke just as strangely as Lyna did, though in a much different manner. "I never did ask you if you liked apples. Hope you don't mind."

Lyna frowned at that. There were a lot of things she never got around to asking him, a lot of things she was sure he was planning on telling her that he didn't get the chance to. Fate was a cruel thing sometimes. "I've had to pray for a lot of people lately. Never thought you'd be added to the list so soon."

She closed her eyes. Her head tilted up to the moon. "Did you believe in the Maker? I hope he's found your spirit, even without a funeral. How do human normally do that, anyway?" She smiled faintly wondering if she really expected to hear his voice, but the moon giving no reply. "Somehow I doubt you'd have wanted me to pray for you either way, but you have to give me this one thing."

These weren't the questions she wanted to ask, but the ones she did… she couldn't bare them not being answered.

Lyna stood then staring down at the little sapling that she'd force-grown. It would grow strong and bear fruit here. It would live long and stand proud for many years to come; it will brighten someone's life, maybe save a starving man. It was how she would remember him. The moon was beginning to crest as she turned from the small glade back towards the town.

"_Dareth shiral, _Duncan."

* * *

That morning found Lyna staring at a man in a cage. If she had thought the humans as tall and imposing before, this one blew the rest out of comparison. He towered at least a head's height above Alistair, and that meant he had about two on her. Her neck hurt just looking at him. There was no way they'd wrestled such a mammoth of a man into that small cage, not unless he wanted to be there.

The man was also chanting in a strange language, that Lyna had not heard before. It was a long while before he took notice of her, or deemed her presence annoying enough to force him to speak. "I have nothing to say that would amuse you, elf. Leave me be."

It wasn't nice to tease prisoners, but Lyna was feeling slight better after last night, and curiousity was an elf thing. "What are you?"

The massive creature glared down at her, his eyes were red and his bronze skin made them look like they glowed. "A prisoner of the Chantry, if that is not obvious enough."

Actually, Lyna wouldn't know he was the Chantry's prisoner per se, but it seemed wiser to keep to the topic at hand. The elf wondered idly if such a man could as easily break from the steel bars as it appeared he could. "I mean, you are not human."

"I am Sten of the Beresaad -the vanguard- of the Qunari peoples." Sten of the vanguard, a vanguard was part of an army was it not? This... Qunari was a puzzle of questions the least of which was why he was locked in the cage in the first place.

He seemed to be losing his patience with her, but Lyna continued on. "I've not heard of Qunari, before."

"Then that is your own shortcoming. It matters little, I will be dead soon." Sten leaned his back against the back of the cage, seeming to be done with her inquiry.

"A proud and noble creature trapped here as fodder for the darkspawn." To think, it was Morrigan that was speaking these words. Lyna half wondered if she was still asleep and she dreamed this part up. "If you have no use for him, then release him for mercy's sake alone."

Alistair gave a snort from behind Lyna, taking a step to the side incase Lyna wanted to smack him with her bow again. "Mercy? I think someone replaced Morrigan in the middle of the night."

"And Alistair should take his place."

"Nope, still Morrigan."

The Qunari practically growled, at least it was at the two of them and not Lyna this time. "Leave me to my fate."

She however couldn't. Lyna felt much of her normal persona within her from her trip into the forest the night before and it meant that she could not leave him, or any being, to be torn apart by the darkspawn. There was only one man who she wouldn't mind seeing fall to that fate, but no, no thinking of that this day. "…I _am_ in need of help and you do appear skilled. We are sworn to fight the tide of darkspawn and end the blight."

Sten regarded her sternly, and Lyna learned quickly that he was not the type to give his thought away unless he spoke them aloud, she had no idea what the giant could be thinking. "Grey Wardens then, my people have been heard the legends of the order's strength and skill… they seem to have been exaggerated."

The Dalish had to bite her lip at the comment; she was used to being underestimated, though he could show a little more gratitude that he may find a kinder fate thanks to her. "If I spoke to those in the Chantry, will they let you go free?"

"It's as likely as anything else to bring my death." The man said simply and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Alistair wondered aloud why the Qunari was imprisoned in the first place as they walked back into town; Lyna did too, only quietly.

The chantry was full to the brim with displaced people. Stewards of the faith chanted and prayed for a seemingly endless line of people. Widows and mothers sobbed silently and children whimpered in fear of the coming 'spawn. Off to one side a knight dispensed orders to his men. One of them whispered something to him as they passed.

"Pardon me, my lady."

Lyna didn't react until Leliana touched her arm and whispered. "He means you."

Well, what did they expect? No one had ever called her 'lady' before.

The man approached, giving the Dalish elf a respectable bow, it only made her more uncomfortable. Add another thing no one had done to her before to the list. Expect for maybe… no, but that wasn't the same thing. "I am Ser Bryant, captain of the guard. Ser Varal tells me you are the ones responsible for slaying the bandits on the road the day prior."

Lyna had to stuff the sour feeling from the memory of that event away; it certainly did a lot to chew away at her passible mood. A whole two hours she'd made it, Lyna would grumble if it wouldn't just add to her troubles. She had told Alistair she wasn't like this, but it seemed to keep covering her like a wet blanket and she couldn't shake it off.

She turned to face the man as he spoke wondering if he would be one of the ones who didn't notice her _vallaslin_ or who did and disliked her instantly for it. Honestly the novelty had worn off, she was quiet done with human villages and would be happy to see it long behind her. "I don't particularly like bandits."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. I'd like to offer my thanks; we've run off those men on more than one occasion. It's a shame it had to come to that, but they had it coming." Indeed it did, Lyna remembered almost letting them go, it would have been nice to be able to, but the man just had to open his mouth. "You are not simple refugees."

Lyna weighed the risks of telling the knight the truth, found she little cared for the outcome and shrugged her shoulders. "No, Grey Wardens."

For his benefit, Ser Bryant barely twitched an eye at the news. "Teyrn Loghain has labeled the Grey Wardens as traitors, though I have my doubts. Still, you shouldn't linger here any longer then you need to."

The man didn't believe the Teyrn's words, but there was little he could do as one in his position, it was nice to know that at least someone didn't believe the lies. "_Ma sa-_ …Thank you, we've learned of this, we'll be long gone before…" How did humans count time?

"Ten bells." Alistair added helpfully.

With a nod in her direction Lyna wandered deeper into the chantry. With Alistair's guidance she found the Revered Mother. Apparently it was they who were in charge of each individual chantry and she who Lyna had to appeal to for Sten's freedom.

The first words out of the Mother's mouth were for money. _Greedy blighted dragons_, Lyna hissed to herself, but she handed a few silver coins over when the elder woman spoke of the refugees. The moment she thought of that red haired boy from the day before she couldn't turn away, and was left wondering if the boy ever found his mother. When the silver disappeared from the woman's hand, she spoke. "I'd like to speak to you about the Qunari you have caged."

The woman stood to begin a slow pace, less like a caged animal and more like a hunter who was pondering the best way to end its wounded prey. These Revered Mothers were not the kind and nurturing women they seemed to be, or at least this one wasn't. "I leave his fate to the Maker, though it might have been kinder to execute him."

It would have been _humane_ to execute him; didn't the word stem from the word these _shemlen_ called themselves? To let him suffer for days, or however long he had been in that cage, and then to be ripped apart by darkspawn… if this was the Maker's will then the Maker was a cruel thing that Lyna never wanted anything to do with. Lyna bit that entire retort back and struggled to keep her voice calm. "I want you to release him into my custody."

The woman stopped her pace across the carpet, eyeing the Dalish girl cynically. "And who _are_ you?"

"Grey Wardens. Let me take him to fight the darkspawn." Lyna got a wicked satisfaction out of the way the Mother's eye's widened.

Alistair, with a smile like the cat that got the cream, nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "We can always conscript him, if you prefer, Revered Mother."

The Mother bristled beautifully. Lyna would have to remember to ask Alistair what conscripting was, but that was for later. The woman's hand twitched and she yanked open a drawer with more force the she intended. Frustrated beyond reason, she slammed the thing home, making the elf flinch from the biting sound. "I seem to have no choice in this matter. Here is the key to his cage, take him and leave before you bring more trouble on us."

Key in hand, a prisoner to free and a religiously pompous woman thoroughly disgruntled the day was beginning rather well. The Qunari, Sten, was surprised that Lyna had succeeded in the task, but none the less agreed to join them in the fight against the blight.

Lyna was getting overly familiar with the tingle in her senses caused by the presence of darkspawn. It hit her as they neared the eastern exit of the town, and a glance towards Alistair told her she was not mistaken. They soon found a group of them swarming at the only exit to town. It was a good thing they had chosen to leave so early, else these things would have savaged the refuges trying to escape later. As it was, Lyna was vaguely aware of those people there huddled behind an overturned cart.

Honestly, their group was so large they might have to begin splitting it up into two, though it certainly was nice to have numbers on their side for once.

Once the last of the creatures was dead and done twitching, those that Lyna's party had inadvertently rescued came out to offer their thanks. "Fine timing you have there, friend! I am Bodahn Feddicand this is my boy Sandal, say hello boy." The merchant and entrepreneur, was a dwarf, Lyna had never met one of the children of the stone before.

"…Hello." And his… simple son.

Really, they didn't strike her as all that different from humans, though it did give her a bubbly feeling to be looking down at someone _for once. _"Roads have been dangerous lately, what brings you out here? Maybe we're going the same way."

Lyna shrugged lightly, no use lying to anyone, it would only get tiring. "Not if you're happy to travel with Grey Wardens."

The dwarf was nothing if not amicable, but his face told that he wasn't too thrilled by the idea. "Ah yes… well. That is a bit more excitement then we can handle, I think. Allow me to bit you happy trails." The elf waved the dwarf off, and her group left him to pick up the remains of his merchant cart.

* * *

People needed to stop wishing good things for her, it seemed like whatever force was keeping the universe together had an evil eye turned in Lyna's direction.

It had begun simply enough. A woman ran to them from up the road, "Bandits!" She screamed, or tried to, her breath short. "Please! They'll kill everyone!" Of course Lyna went running, Alistair did too and that meant everyone was forced to follow along. When they reached the overturn carts, the slaughtered oxen and a lone elf standing in their way, Lyna wondered if they were too late. When the tree trunk came crashing down behind them, blocking the path, Lyna realized they'd been tricked.

"The Grey Warden dies here!"

Her faithful mabari charged forward, the woman they intended to help it turned out was a mage, but the dog cared little for the spark of her magic and bowled her over quickly going for her jugular. Lyna fired at the archers that flanked them from the rise, but she couldn't stay focused on them. The elf had his sites on her and she was forced to drop her bow and fight off his blades.

Lyna wasn't used to fighting opponents, intelligent ones anyway, who fought duo-blade, and the mismatched lengths of his was something new as well and made it difficult for her to get close. He matched her parry and blow, far more skilled then she, and he knew it. She was losing ground to him, and she knew without looking that the tree trunk that blocked their retreat was almost at her back.

Alistair and Sten couldn't help her too busy with more attackers. Morrigan had shifted into a massive spider, immobilizing those on the rise in a thick web, eight legs working in tandem to carry her up the hill and overwhelm them. Leliana covered the other rise, more archers there and her mabari…

Falonel came up behind the male elf with a snarl, teeth digging into his leg.

Creators bless that dog!

He couldn't fight them both off at once so the elf shoved Lyna back and twisted to face his new, and frankly more dangerous attacker. His daggers loomed over the mabari's head, intent on a spot right between his eyes. Lyna slipped to her knees and pushed forward, slicing one blade across the elf's hip, the other a punch with the pummel to his chest. Lyna heard ribs crack and her attacker slumped to his knees with a gasp when Falonel pulled his balance off. The pummel of her other dagger clashed with his temple and he fell the rest of the way to the ground.

The last few members fell soon after him.

"An ambush…" Alistair commented when they could all stop to catch their breath. "Why an ambush, and who would know?"

There was an obvious answer to that question. Lyna glanced at the fallen elf she'd fought; it was on his signal that the others had attacked. Turns out she hadn't killed him, though those broken ribs would not be fun later. "He would know."

The two wardens stood there for another long moment puzzling before Lyna spoke again.

"Got any rope?"

* * *

Falonel; _(lit. Friend, our) Our Friend_

Seth'lin; _(lit. thin, Blood) A swear._

Dareth shiral; _(lit._ _Safe Journey) Goodbye_

_Do you know what I know? I hope so. This 'trying to be subtle without being _too_ subtle' thing is getting pretty hard. __Oh! And I may or may not explain that_ other _thing in future chapters. Teehee. _


	6. Chapter 6

_All the Zev, all the time (not really, just the first half or so). I enjoy this chapter. Also, this no longer matches up completely with Petrichor and Applewood (That took all of 1 chapter, btw), but I don't seem to mind and neither should you. :)_

* * *

The night was beginning to wane, the first tiny purple coloring of dawn touching the dark violet of the sky. Lyna wasn't quite ready to leave the solitude of her tent, something she'd never spent so much time in before, but let the flap remain open just enough to watch the coming sun. Rarely was anyone of this strange conglomerate of people up at this time, though she could hear Morrigan tinkering with something on the opposite side of the camp.

They would reach the magi's tower soon, if not before nightfall then the morning after. Lyna could already see it looming across the lake in the distance, it was a small thing now, but according to Alistair its point scratched at the sky. They'd taken their time crossing the Bannorn, adding to the days it normally took to reach the tower out of consideration of their newest companion.

Lyna had managed to crack two of his ribs, but then, he'd also been trying to _kill_ her.

They had no healer, she and Morrigan, the latter begrudgingly, doing their best to ease the pain as time healed those bones. The man never complained, not from the pain or even for her choice to slow her group down for his sake. He even refused anything that would numb the pain in his ribs. Lyna shook her head, she thought breathing was a little more important than pride, but then she couldn't force him.

The only thing he did do was shake his head and uttered the words, "You are too kind, Warden," if that could be considered a complaint. He'd done a lot to remind her of someone that Lyna spent a lot of time trying to forget in that instant. She pretended to not have heard him.

Zevran Arainai. Lyna never thought she'd met an elf and think him even more different then the humans she now traveled with. He made no secret of whom and what he was, laying it all at her feet with hardly any prompting. He was a city-elf, even if the marks on his face reminded her something of the Dalish. His homeland was a place called Antiva, somewhere far due north from the southern lands of Ferelden and his voice was laced with such a thick accent she sometimes had to ask him to repeat himself. Lyna had never traveled so far and had never even heard of the place. The farthest she'd ever been was Sundermount on the southern coast of the Free Marches. It had taken much longer than it should to pull those names out of her memory; she hadn't been there since she was a child.

He was also an assassin, one of a group called the Antivan Crows, course, Lyna had never heard of them either. Zevran had seemed mildly surprised at the time and Leliana filled her in, though she wondered what they had all expected from her, she was a backwoods Dalish-elf she told them with a roll of her eyes and a sting to her pride. "It's lucky enough I even knew the land we roam in is called _Ferelden_."

At least answers from her group came straighter after that, they finally realizing that she even asking these things was a shot to her self-esteem enough without them wondering why she didn't know in the first place.

Zevran had been sent by Loghain to pick off any remaining wardens that might have escaped the slaughter at Ostagar, so far Lyna and Alistair were the only ones, and in that regard Zevran had failed. Here lay the reason why the assassin was in her group now.

He, in a rather nonchalant, _this happens to me regularly_, sort of tone told them that his life was forfeit for failing the contract. Now he was a wanted man by the Crows, a prickly bunch when it came to reputations, and they would know of his botched attempt thanks to a runner watching the fight from a distance. That man would return to Zevran's handler, tell him of the failure and that Zevran still lived. The crows in turn would send more assassins on the Grey Wardens as they had a contract to still fill, as well as hunt down Zevran himself and kill him. There was no matter if he succeeded in a second attempt, he told them, and the Crows would still kill him out of principle.

"I am ever the optimist." Zevran had commented with a wide smile that sat somewhere between boastful and joking when Lyna asked him rather sharply about even getting a second chance. She tried not to smile, but his own smirk told her she'd failed at that.

To that end Zevran proposed to join Lyna and her group. They were a rather talented and fearsome bunch, enough so the Crows _might_ think twice about attacking them, plus they would now have a rather skilled assassin on their side. If nothing else Zevran would be able to warn them of more sophisticated attacks in the future.

It seemed rather farfetched, really, and Lyna had her doubts of the validity of his words. Her group all had their own opinion on the matter, most against bringing him along. Lyna couldn't in good conscious leave him. If even a hint of what he spoke of was true, then how cruel of her to leave him to face his own assassins alone. If anything Lyna should kill him now, but she could never do such a thing in cold blood. Let these humans think of her and the Dalish as they wanted, she was not a murder.

In the end he came, Lyna cut the binds around his wrist, smiling faintly when she saw he'd at least tried to undo them and only succeeded in making the knot worse and helped him to his feet.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation... this I swear." The word of bond was enough for her and she would let him follow if that was what he wanted. Of course one couldn't be too careful. Falonel was a wonderful guard dog and watched him whenever Lyna herself couldn't.

Least of all, she learned at that moment he was a shameless flirt, propositioning any of the group who might be interested and had Lyna's face tinting red almost every time he opened his mouth. Lyna tried to ignore it when she could, but she quickly wondered if he was making a game out of how red he could turn her. She wouldn't have mind so much if she could participate too, but she just didn't think that way. It would take her a half second for her to realize just what he'd said, then her mind refused to work fast under embarrassment and by the time her head unfroze and her lips worked again the moment for a comeback would be long gone.

Then again, from his own lips there probably wasn't anything she could say that would shock him, other than the fact that she had said it. It would be worth it for that one moment of shock on his face. Not that Lyna would ever take him up on such an offer in seriousness, but if he enjoyed being flirty as he said, -that was another conversation that had her red as an apple as she redressed the bite wound on his leg- who was she to tell him to stop? All she needed to do was ignore him.

Alistair didn't like him, much for the same reason he disliked Morrigan. They were not of things he was accustomed to, and Lyna wondered not for the first time if the former Templar felt the same about her. No, the man was rather black and white, she was a Grey Warden just as he and there for she was alright no matter her background. The witch and the assassin however, would never sit right with him no matter how many times Lyna told him that Morrigan was just trying to get a rise out of him, or that Zevran was in little condition to make another attempt on her life and probably wouldn't anyway as long as they were his shield against the Crows.

Speaking of, Zevran walked by the front of her tent and out of camp. Lyna was curious about him. He was the only other elf in their group and Lyna had met one other city-elf before, Pol, only in passing as she left her clan. Some of the Dalish liked to call them flat-ears, _for they differ little from their shemlen masters_, echoed the voice of _Hahren_ Paivel, but Lyna hated the title. There shouldn't be such a divide between a city-elf and a wild-elf, or wood elf or whatever it was they called the Dalish.

Either way, it didn't feel quite as lonely with him around, even if she was still a bit wary of the man who had tried to kill her, and she was feeling especially curious. After a few minutes of mental debate she donned her own armor and slipped out of camp. His tracks were easy to follow and Lyna couldn't decide if it was done on purpose or not. She grew up tracking creatures though the forest, she might just have more skill then he did in disguising his trail. Then again, he was an assassin and he could have easily done such a thing purposely.

Really for all that he had already told her, he had cleverly told her nothing at all. Lyna just wished she understood his motives better.

She found him, of course. The elf was deep in concentration, or so it looked to her eyes, swinging though the steps of sword practice. Lyna wouldn't remain out of sight much longer with the coming dawn and rather than continue trying to hide, for she doubted she could or even did from him, she stood within sight, but quietly, her back against a tree. He could tell her to leave without insulting either of them, or he could ignore her and let her watch. Zevran said nothing, so Lyna remained. She thought for a moment that he shouldn't be taxing himself so, that he could not be so healed just after a few days, but thought better of it. Only Zevran would know what he was capable of, and she did not voice her protest.

It was interesting watching another who used two blades at once, like Lyna did. Most of her companions used huge heavy weapons that a slip of an elf such as she could never even begin to lift. Only Leliana wielded a manageable blade, but she'd shown more interest in archery then sword work and while Lyna was happy to teach, it left her solo blade practices feeling lacking.

Zevran though, while the wild-elf used two shorter daggers, he used mismatched blades, a longer one-handed sword and a dagger. His style was very different, and he was far more proficient in them as well, compared to Lyna, and she couldn't help but wonder how she managed to knock him down just a few days ago. It seemed impossible just from watching him train.

"You swing low." The assassin said suddenly, snatching out of her thoughts suddenly. He didn't stop his movement, continuing though his regime as if a chat was quite a normal part of it. "This is what you were thinking, no? That our battle on the road seemed an unlikely turn of events?"

"Far more used to fighting wolfs and bear." Lyna replied trying to ignore how easy he read her thoughts. "Fighting… _others_ is a new thing; I've yet to accustom myself to it."

The city-elf chuckled, a smirk crossing his lips and pinching the swirling marks on his face. His arms dropped lazily to his side, though his daggers never left his hands, as if they were as much a part of them as his fingers. "It is this fact that won you this fight, that and your well timed mabari. I thought to defend something that was not in danger." His hand rested on his thigh, just below his hip bone.

It took Lyna just a moment before she smacked a hand over her mouth.

"Creators! I'm sorry!" He laughed heartily at her words.

"No apology needed Warden, your reaction tells me you had no intention of such a thing and that is enough. Though if truly wish to, you could always apologize to me in… other ways." Lyna knew her face had gone beat-red up to her ears; she couldn't force out an answer for him as usual. He was laughing at her again, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. "No? Too bad."

It took a while before her face stopped feeling hot. Daggers flashed in the dawn as Zevran slipped back into his routine. His eyes closed and Lyna wondered if he always did such a thing with his eyes shut, or if he was trusting her to watch his back. The question had an answer that seemed unlikely. "Back to our point, it would be in your benefit to practice blades with an opponent without claws and teeth, no?"

Lyna shuffled a bit, kicking at a rock. "Leliana is not so good with two swords. Alistair knocks me down too easily; it's more dodging and trying not to end up bruised with him." Sten was much the same, though it was more of a matter of not losing a limb with him.

A moment's pause, Lyna listened to the song of Zevran's blades as they cut the air. "I could always offer myself as an opponent."

"I- Well…" She wanted to, really. Lyna liked watching him fight already, and knew just from the last few minutes how much she could learn from him. The Sabrae Clan, her clan, was renowned for their skills as archers. Blade work, they held their own, but there was always room for improvement.

"Do not trust me yet, Warden? I understand." Lyna frowned at that, it wasn't quite true.

"I take you at your word, it's just…" Those words were also assassin and killer, he drabbled on all the time about himself, and yet he never said a word, nothing of real meaning. It was the strangest thing. It left her confused and wanting him to keep talking, at the same time Lyna wondered if he did it to throw her off. It certainly worked. "…I need some time to think about it."

"Just so, Warden. I would not trust me yet either."

Lyna had half a mind to leave him be, her group would want breakfast and she was the only one capable of hunting anything down. They'd gotten little in the way of supplies at Lothering, the people fleeing for their lives needing those things more. Lyna couldn't take what other's needed to desperately when she was capable herself, though at the time she hadn't expected the people following her to number so large. If they had longer to travel, she would bring back something larger, smoke the meat overnight, given the chance, but at the moment they didn't have time for such an effort. That meant hoping that the fowl and rabbits she did manage to find were enough for the herd of mouths that needed feeding.

She however didn't feel like moving. Watching Zevran roll through the steps reminded her of training with Junar, of her clan, and while he was a city-elf, an assassin and wholly dangerous, watching him made her feel like she was back with her them. She wasn't quite ready to give up that feeling just yet.

"If might make as suggestion." The feeling was broken for her, and she tried not to sigh wistfully, knowing Zevran it would only lead to some innuendo that would turn her scarlet.

"What about?"

The elf didn't slow his movements, if anything they sped up with the added distraction of their conversation. "We will be reaching the circle of Magi soon, no? Have you thought about who you will take into the tower itself? Our band is rather large; it might be wiser to leave a few behind."

An eyebrow rose in his direction, but he was not paying her much mind. "Don't take this the wrong way, but that sounds rather suspicious coming from you."

"True," He stepped low and twisted. A block she thought, coming from high. Were these practice movements or was he refighting opponents from the past, Lyna could only wonder. "It might be best to leave our dear Morrigan behind, she is an apostate, you remember. The Templars in the tower will not take kindly to her presence and I do not see it in her not to flaunt her status about." Lyna had a mental image of Morrigan shoving her thumbs in her ears and sticking her tongue out at the Templars, she bit out a laugh, clamping both hands over her mouth.

He hesitated a moment, just to see what was so funny, he probably didn't have the same thought she did, but smirked all the same at the humor of it.

"The same goes for our Qunari friend. They do not hold magic in any favorable view and to him the circles would seem too lenient. It may be best not to expose him to such things; they tend to become a bit… _bravo_. Bah, you do not know this meaning." He paused completely both from his routine and his words, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the word in a tongue she understood. Lyna wondered how accomplished the snapping with a blade still in his hand. "_Collerico?_Irate? Ah, my dear warden, this is not my meaning, but it will have to do."

"I wouldn't call Sten..." Lyna paused trying to decide of irritable was the right word to use. Through his own admission he had slaughtered a family of farmers whose only fault was helping him. The giant seemed regretful of that fact, having placed himself in a cage as penance, but no, he was not beyond such acts and Lyna really did not know enough or anything at all really, of Qunari to judge what might tip him over the edge. It had been hard enough to get him to speak of his imprisonment let alone anything else.

Zevran only shrugged, seeming to know what she was trying to say without the words being spoken. "In the face of the circle of magic he might become such."

He did have a point after all, and Sten did not particularly like Morrigan, though the witch never was one to make it easy, maybe it was best to leave him. Lyna had also promised _Asha'bellanar_that she wouldn't let anything happen to Morrigan, and that probably meant _not_ dragging an apostate into a den of pious Templars. Of course that meant leaving Sten with the witch in question.

Lyna would have to leave someone behind to mediate. Alistair couldn't do it; he would rise to whatever baits Morrigan dangled his way in a heartbeat. Zevran would also be a bad choice; the assassin too liked to poke the beehive, so to speak, though he was smart enough to stand back at let someone else get stung. That only left Leliana, who was more than capable of keeping members of this misfit group from killing each other at least for a few hours. Lyna was left with Alistair, Zevran and Falonel to enter the tower.

If there was one thing Lyna was thankful for, it was that she never had to worry about the mabari causing trouble. Small miracles were all she could hope for at this point.

It didn't escape her that the arrangement was far too close to convenient for Zevran had he wished to take his chances with the Crows. Of course, she had yet to say a word on the subject, had come up with the team herself. He could have, very easily, manipulated her to this decision; it was really the only one to be had after voicing his opinions.

Why did these people have to make trusting them so hard?

There was no trusting Sten; he had murdered a family in cold blood and wouldn't explain to her why. While she liked Leliana, the woman might be raving mad for all Lyna knew, believing a dream as a vision from an absentee god. Morrigan made no secret that she wasn't happy to be here. There was obviously some other reason why the woman remained and not just by the wish of her mother, though she'd never speak of it. Lyna was still angry with Alistair. As the only other Grey Warden he was supposed to have her back and rather than help her, he dumped all responsibility on her and washed his hands of it.

"I prefer to follow." He told Morrigan. _Lyna_ preferred decisions that affected the group be made by the group as a whole, though she'd never been asked her own opinions. It was the way her clan worked; thoughts would be given and the best course would be chosen based on a majority rule. The only time the Keeper would intervene was when a decision was of life or death, or safety of the clan as a whole. Alistair made it clear that she couldn't rely on him and that had shattered any faith she had in him. She hadn't spoken to him much since Lothering and even then it was only to argue with him over bringing Zevran along, though she thought she'd been civil enough. Lyna had a feeling he knew she was upset with him, but he didn't bring it up. He can try to mend his own bridge.

Zevran was her newest problem now and it was her own stubbornness that brought him on her, she should trust him least of all. With him Lyna was sure of two things; either he would make another attempt on her and Alistair's life and she would have to cut him down, or he would hold fast to his word.

It was funny how of all of them, the assassin was the most clear cut.

Lyna just wished she could know which to expect from him, she didn't like having to look over her shoulder constantly. She shook her head no, determined to give him the benefit of the doubt, as she'd given to all of them. Not for the first time she wished they made doing that a bit simpler.

"Warden?"

Lyna blinked, realizing she her mind had wandered away from her. "S-Sorry. Zevran. What?"

Zevran's blades where away and his arms where crossed over his chest like he'd been waiting for her to snap out of her reverie for a while. "I would leave you to your musings, but I fear your fellow Grey Warden might think I left you dead in the woods should I return alone."

He had such an opportunity. Zevran knew he could beat her in a fight now, no Mabari to flank him, no one to come to her aid. Lyna tried not to dwell on the _why not_ of it. "Ufh. That would be a laugh. I need to go back for my bow if you all want breakfast anyway."

They returned to camp together; Lyna couldn't help but notice Alistair giving Zevran a dirty look until he noticed her behind the other elf. The look turned suspicious and was directed her way. Lyna titled her head to the side, innocently though she knew exactly what he was thinking, before grabbing her bow and running back out of camp with Falonel at her heels.

Alistair was never allowed to cook again. What he had done was an atrocity towards all things edible. Falonel was happy for it though, nearly everyone gave him their meal. It appalled Lyna even as she walked on with a growling stomach, the Dalish never wasted anything, but this slop simply could not be swallowed. They had to stop for lunch, as there were no leftovers from breakfast, but it was better. More so because she pushed Alistair out of the way and made it herself, much to the delight of her companions.

"What were you doing this morning?" Alistair asked as she tended the meal and kept his hands from adding to the pot. He tried to motion to Zevran when he thought the assassin wasn't looking, but Lyna was sure he saw and heard, humans were much too loud even when they tried to be quiet.

"Talking." She said simply, hardly even looking up at the man.

Alistair crossed his hands over his chest. "I don't trust him." It must have been the hundredth time he'd said such in six days.

"I do." Lyna was adamant in her words even if her mind did echo it quiet so clearly. That was that, as far as she was concerned.

Despite the setback, they still reached the Magi's Tower just after nightfall.

Lyna had never been so close to the lake before, its shores were far too populated by humans to be safe for the Dalish to approach. Rather than follow the sloping hill down to the bank, Lyna ran across the sun bleached stone that radiated the heat of the day and made up what little was still intact of the highway, standing on the very edge where the bridge across the lake had fallen apart from neglect. The Tower loomed in the darkness and the stars and moon reflected off the mirror like surface of the water. She couldn't see the opposite shore, but she doubted she could even if it were daylight.

She remembered little bits of this place, something about it being built by the old Tevinter Empire long ago. Books were hard to come by as a Dalish, but she always did love reading, maybe the Mages would allow her a peak at their collection. Not the magical ones of course, she had no interest in those pass the most basic sense, anything else would be beyond her anyway, but they must have more than just magical tomes hidden behind those walls.

Alistair cleared his throat _at least_ four times before Lyna sighed and trotted down the hill to her companions.

The only way to cross the lake to the tower was by boat. The original ferryman was an elder man called Kester who couldn't open his mouth without sticking his foot in it. It took him a few tries, but he managed to spit out something that wasn't entirely condescending. Lyna shooed Alistair's hand off her shoulder, took a deep breath, _pretended_ she didn't feel like he was still mocking her and learned that something bad was happening in the tower, but not much else. Their only choice was to speak to the Templar who guarded the dingy and persuade him to let them cross.

The man, Carroll was less that sufferable, even after meeting Kester. Lyna was sure she at least attempted to be nice, but the moment they walked up he was already barking at them to leave, and that no one was allowed to cross. "We're Grey Wardens," She told him flatly. "We require the assistance of the Circle Mages."

The knight snorted, his arms crossing over his chest. "Oh and I'm the queen of Antiva."

Lyna glanced back at Zevran, motioning to the knight. "Something you haven't told me?"

"I assure you our queen is _much_ more attractive." Apparently, she learned much later, this was an expression, but Lyna had never heard it before. Zevran for whatever reason had played along. It made for a nice shamefaced look to cross the Knight's face. Guess it was impolite to mock Antiva in front of actual Antivans.

"Listen, I need to talk to the Knight-Commander. He won't appreciate it that you've given me trouble." Sometimes she couldn't read humans, she'd gotten better at it with Alistair and Morrigan around and now the tiny band of three had swelled into six, not including Falonel, so maybe she could bluff him.

"As if Greagoir would… actually he might." The knight shuffled uneasily. Lyna tried not to smirk; instead she crossed her arms over her chest giving him a hard look. If Greagoir wouldn't, she sure as void would. "Alright, fine. But no more than four go to the tower; the dinghy can't hold the whole lot of you."

A blessing from the creators themselves, Lyna thought. Now she didn't have to find an excuse to leave some of them behind. She glanced over her group in a mock of trying to decide who will stay and who won't. She tapped two fingers against her chin counting the seconds before she figured it had been long enough to come to a decision. "Leliana, stay here with Morrigan and Sten. The rest of you; hope you don't get sea-sick."

"Great, the circle." Alistair mumbled under his breath. "The magi just _love_ me."

Turns out Mabari can't swim. Didn't stop the dog from trying, but Falonel was almost pure muscle, lacked a great deal of natural buoyancy and sunk like a rock. Lyna had to hold the overly excited hound by the worn collar around his neck and he kept peering over the side of the dinghy, trying to bite at the reflection of the stars on the surface.

"You know it's just light, don't you?" She told the dog with a frown. He barked in agreement, but went back to his game anyway. "Well, alright then."

Other than that the ride was peaceful and they soon found themselves passing the wide oaken doors that groaned in protests as they were forced open.

"I told Carroll that no one was allowed in." The Knight Commander growled as she and her companions walked in. The man wore armor so polished it was like looking in a mirror. She could see her own reflection, passed the sword emblem on his chest. The thought turned the Dalish elf just a slight bit pale. She bit her lip, trying to quite the voice in her mind.

He shouted-

_It's got me! Lyna-_

The look of terror-

Lyna squashed the memory down, far down, as far as it could go until it was smothered by every other thought possible and she left it there. Her gaze locked onto Greagoir's face, distracting herself with the way his beard moved as he spoke. She would never understand human's facial hair. It looked like a fuzzy caterpillar had wrapped itself from one ear to another. Kind of disgusting, really. When she spoke, her voice sounded far away to her own ears, detached, but no one else seemed to notice. "We are Grey Wardens seeking help from the Circle of Magi to fight against the darkspawn."

"Have you not asked enough?" The man growled, and the caterpillar on his face wiggled as he talked. "The Circle cannot help you in any case. I will speak plainly; the tower has been lost. The circle has been possessed by demons and has slaughtered most of the Templars under my command. There is little hope that any still remain alive. I've sent word to the Chantry in Denerim for the right of Annulment."

"The what?"

Alistair answered for her; the knight captain was too busy giving her a look like it should be obvious what he was talking about. Apparently he was one of the ones that didn't see the Dalish on her forehead. "They plan to purge the tower of any living souls, though I was always told it was defiantly Templar plan-B."

Even as a Dalish, Lyna knew of possession. Any of her people could be possessed; they all had some if small connection to the fade. It was the clans' duty as a whole should one of the members be possessed, and creators forbid if it is their Keeper, or their first, to hunt them down. It was not however, something that was done lightly, and obviously only those who had been overcome by the demon. Only those with no help of saving were killed. "But they're still people alive in there; they can't have _all_ been possessed."

Greagoir looked away with a shake of his head. "It must be done. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find none."

"So you're just giving up then. You're going to let innocent people die because you don't have the guts to root out the demons yourself." She turned to the two men that followed her, and then her eyes swept over the few Templars that lingered in the room. "Is this really the way your religion works? Is this really the will of your Maker? To let others suffer and die because of the weakness of others? Is life not so precious to you that you will allow genocide rather than attempt at saving a life?"

No one answered her.

Stupid blighted shemlen. She might have hissed that aloud. Zevran glanced her way, but the humans didn't seem to hear it. Lyna was aghast that any, all of them seemed to find this normal, to accept it. It was abhorrent. It was-

The look-

Terror-

_Help!-_

No! Not again! Never again!

She buried the memory again under a mountain of rage so thick it felt consuming. "Well I'm not going to allow it! You can stay behind here if you like. Wait like children for others to come rescue you from your own cowardice, but I'm not going to sit here and let people die. Not while I can lift a blade in their defense!"

_Never again. _She turned to her group; her tone was more even with them. She would not make them come. It was her head she was shoving into the dragon's mouth, no need to force them to do the same. "Stay here if you like, but I'm going."

"Lyna! Wait!" She was pretty sure that was Alistair, but she didn't stop. She might not force them to come, but she also would not be persuaded to remain behind.

The Knight-Commander seemed to finally come out of the stupor that Lyna left him in. "If you go through those doors we will not open them again. Not unless the First Enchanter stands next to you." He called at her back. Without any farther prompting the two Templars that guarded the door pushed the heavy oaken doors and allowed her passage.

If she could give him a Dalish obscene gesture and he would understand it, she would have. Too bad she didn't know any human ones. "Then I'll bring him back alive. It's more then you've done!"

The doors slammed home with a heavy and ominous boom. The walls just beyond were streaked with blood, bodies of mages and Templars alike littered the floor. The air was thick and putrid with rot and an oppressive feeling, like a weight, Lyna wondered if it was magic gone wrong. She'd thought she was alone, that the two men had stayed behind. She wasn't at all surprised that Falonel remained steadfast by her side, but to see the two of them come up beside her was both a shock and relief.

"Sorry…" She mumbled to them, her eyes drifting to her feet with a bit of shame. "Now that I think about it that might have been a bit impulsive."

"You _think?" _There was a good natured sarcasm to Alistair's voice, even as his eyebrow rose in skepticism. Lyna smiled sheepishly.

Zevran simply shrugged his shoulders. "You're getting to get up to interesting things. You meet interesting people and then you kill them. I'm game to tag along, if you are."

"Trying to hold back on the killing thing, Zev." The assassin chuckled, a flick of a smile on his face. Lyna wasn't sure what for, but she let it go.

The living quarters of the apprentices was in shambles, but even more so Lyna got an idea of what they were supposed to look like. Rows of sleeping bunks stacked three on top of each other; they were packed together the way humans packed away their cattle. One small room was made to hold dozens of young mages at once. She couldn't believe they were forced to live like this, but she didn't need Alistair's affirmation to know they did.

Worst from the smell of blood and dark magic was the feeling of despair this room held. She was the only one that seemed to notice, to think it wrong. She thought not for the first time that for the human and the city-elf this was normal. Expected. Lyna thanked the creators that she saw otherwise; _could_ see otherwise.

They found no one alive in those first few rooms. The knight commander might be right, but Lyna refused to give up, obstinate in the belief that there might be more people alive in the upper levels. A second set of huge heavy doors blocked the path, the Dalish elf tried to push it open, but the heavy oak would not give under her strength. Lyna turned to Alistair, blinking her wide green eyes in his direction.

"Oh you want me to open the door?" Alistair gawked, crunching his noise and crossing his arms.

"Well... I can't do it." She replied, then as if by afterthought, although she had thought of it minutes before, added. "And… Zevran likes to watch."

Zevran bust out laughing, Lyna tried not to grin too much, but she was very proud of herself and Alistair muttered under his breath about elves ganging up on him. Lyna was pretty sure that would be the only time she got the drop on the assassin, she kind of regretted it. He had a hand on his chest like the laughing hurt, and she remembered his ribs hadn't had enough time to heal. Alistair turned away, braising his shoulder against the door and shoved. The old wood groaned against the force, but gave way, inch by inch. Finally it opened enough for two elves and a slightly large human to slip pass.

Fire lit the wood with a bellow, forcing the three to the floor to avoid the burns. The door crackled and groaned swinging shut under the power behind the fireball, but she could still hear Falonel on the other side, barking and starching at the wood. He was the lucky one, she thought, at least they knew that room was safe.

"Do not come any closer!" A woman's voice called from across the room, Lyna shook the daze from her head, the ringing in her ears not helping with making sense of what went on around her. Finally she focused on the faces of children, scared, huddled behind the robes of those only slightly older than them, and before all of them was an elder woman.

It took Lyna a moment to recall were she'd seen this woman before. "…I remember you, we spoke at Ostagar."

"The Grey Warden. Why have you come here?" Her voice was stern and she held her staff before her, its end facing Lyna.

"We were hoping to gather aid against the darkspawn, but when this one-" Alistair motioned at Lyna with a thumb who scowled back at him as she dragged herself back to her feet. "-learned of the right of Annulment she stormed in determined to help as many people as she could."

"So Greagoir has called for the rite, but it has not arrived." The woman took a deep breath, sighed paced a bit before continuing. "We still have a chance. Greagoir may still be able to see reason."

"He said that we need the first enchanter if we even want to be let out." Lyna added, if anything maybe she could tell her who that was.

"Then the path is set, Irving will be at the top of the tower if he is still alive. There is but one thing." She turned to the archway behind her. The path was blocked by a wall of magic. Like a layer of water set vertical it rippled, swayed as if on a tide and it held a glow like looking at the sunlight from beneath the water's surface. "I've erected this barrier, and I will not bring it down unless you allow me to accompany you to reclaim the tower."

"I've already elected to help you, take it down when you are ready." The Dalish replied with a shrug. Falonel still whimpered from the other side of the door, but barked happily when she told them to guard until they come back. "And if any Templars try to get by you, give it to them good."

Two happy barks for that one.

The barrier fell with a splash, it really had been water, and the four pressed onward.

Lyna's first look at the circle library was disappointing. Not for the array of books, for there was shelving space stacked to the ceiling and then some, but because the whole place had been ransacked. Torn pages littered with blood, a shelving unit had fallen on top of some poor unfortunate soul, his precious life blood staining equally as precious manuscripts that could never be replaced. The library looked abandoned as the wandered in and her companions seemed to drift from her side in the expanse of the room.

A man hovered over a pile of books in a far corner. He mumbled quietly to himself, rocking slowly. Lyna approached, slowly, but he didn't move. Her hand brushed his shoulder, the words of soft reassurance on her tongue and he turned.

His face was twisted, strings of flesh bubbled out like a cancer and his eyes blazed red. "Want..!" It hissed, its mouth dripping as it stood, loomed, _towered_ over the tiny elf.

Magical fire smashed the abomination into the shelves, with a howl of _hunger _it charged Lyna swiping at the little elf as she rolled away leaving bloody trails from below her leather armor before she could beat its clawed hand back with the blades of her daggers. Another smack of magic, and ice trapped the thing against the shelves.

From behind them two more abominations rounded the corner; Lyna pulled her bow to her hands, neatly flying a row of arrows into the twisted things.

"Behind you-" Wynne warned. Lyna turned, started to, the only thing that could be there was the first monster they foug-

Lyna was thrown to the ground with a crack.

It wasn't until the other two beasts were down that she was able to regain enough sense to sit up, the room spun as she did so. A hand placed on her head brought blood back, and Lyna realized it hadn't just been the crack of the floor she heard when she fell.

"Cracked skull." Wynne's voice was very near to her ears. A wash of magic fell over her. It wasn't like her keeper's magic, Marathari's reminded Lyna of the breath of wind through the leaves in a forest. Much like the barrier, Wynne's was like water, soothing still, but cool and refreshing as well.

"You're a healer." Stating the obvious seemed like a good thing to do, and it brought a chuckle from the elder woman. "Mmh. Maybe look at Zevran? His ribs are cracked."

"Warden, there is no need for that."

"Is too- Mad you laugh and they were hurting you." The sound of an explosion, then another made her flinch and then groan in pain, but she did see what had caused it. The body of one abomination had exploded after death, followed shortly by the other. "Oh. _That's_ what happened."

Move away after an abomination is killed, good to know.

After a few moments, Lyna's sense's returned to her. She had a chance to shuffle though the few tomes that hadn't been utterly destroyed while Wynne tended to the assassin. Soon enough they were prepared as they could be and began climbing levels of the tower. Lyna was disheartened to find that the few living people who did still remain had attacked them. They had apparently turned to darker magic, and even her people shunned the use of blood magic.

"Guess you're getting your wish, Zevran." Lyna mumbled as she pulled the arrow from her last victim, she hadn't wanted to kill them, but she wouldn't _not_ defend herself either.

"_Sin __alegría_, Warden." He replied, though she did not know what that meant.

They did find one woman who threw down her staff after they had taken down her companions. Lyna refused to kill her, but she couldn't bring herself to help the woman escape, especially after her impassioned speech about mages. Bitterly Lyna let her go and tried not to think about how far she would get before being caught. Sin alegria. Lyna had an idea of what it meant.

There were no more chances to help, they either faced mages who had turned to blood magic and there for feared discovery, abominations who had no will of their own other than that of the demons or worst yet Templars that had been bewitched by demons that had slipped into the world to fight. Killing the demons themselves first did not help at all, the Templars still fought under the trance the malevolent spirits had left them in.

The stockroom was empty and offered a short reprieve from the demons below. Wynne checked them over, but there was nothing as serious as what they had brought in with them, and Lyna had been far more wary when it came to the abominations.

"Please refrain from messing up the stockroom," A man said. Lyna frowned, he stared straight ahead, and there was a curious mark on his forehead, one that reminded her of a sun. His tone was even and drawl-less, _monotone_. "I have been trying to tidy it up."

"Why are you here, are you not afraid of the demons?" There was something off putting about him, something that Lyna could not place her finger on.

"I tried to leave the tower, but there was a barrier in my way, so I returned to work. The stockroom is familiar." He said.

If anything, this man was more frightening then the demons she faced. "How are you so calm?" Calm wasn't the word for it, it was like he was empty, soulless.

"He is one of the tranquil, they have no emotions." Wynne replied, turning to the man who she learned was called Owain. Lyna watched quietly as they talked, watched as the man continued to stare straight ahead and speak with such empty tones that it sent a shiver down her spine.

"Are humans born like this?" Lyna finally asked, casting her eyes to those who might knew, that being everyone who wasn't _her._

Wynne shook her head. "No… they are mages who were not strong enough to survive their harrowing."

Lyna waited for a long moment for someone to explain harrowing to her, finally Alistair complied. "It's a test young magi are put to. Some apprentices are deemed too weak and are made Tranquil."

The Dalish's face twitched as she tried to process the information. She was stuck on four words; _deemed too weak_, and _made_. "So those without strong connections to the beyond get turned into soulless-" She couldn't think of the word, other than _soulless_ and gestured lamely in Owain's direction.

"For their own protection." Wynne rose to the challenge in Lyna's voice, making the elf blister even more at her words.

"According to who? There are plenty of mages _outside of this forsaken tower_ that have never fallen victim to a demon!" Lyna snapped, more out of defensiveness then anything else. What would these people do to her if they find out? Lyna had no real connection to the beyond, it had to be pried open like the jaws of a trap; effort and bruises and more than a little potential pain and it would always, _always_ snap shut, hard and fast. Would they still condemn her to this half-life? No, she realized, they wouldn't. She was _Dalish_ there would be no circle for her. Only death.

The Chantry knew of Dalish magic. They had to. It wasn't chance that the clan stumbled onto groups of Templars from time to time, they must be sent to cull any Dalish, any _apostates_ they might find. It had to be why the Dalish as a whole remained wanders, because if they ever stopped the _pious_ chantry, the Mothers, their Devine, their Templars -however it worked, Lyna didn't care to learn- would fall on them like a pestilence. She gestured again to the tranquil, trying to cover up the fear in her voice with anger. "This- This is _normal_ to you all?!"

"You know nothing child." The mage with them hissed. Of course she would defend it; it was what she knew, what she'd grown and grown old with.

"I know this is _wrong."_ She snapped at Wynne. "The fact that you don't see it too just goes to show how misguided, you and your chantry is!"

"It is for the good of the many." It was a _lie_, one that Wynne had believed for so long she couldn't see passed it.

"There's a better way, there _has to be. _My people-" Lyna stopped suddenly, realizing she almost said too much. The chantry might now, but these people with her might not. She swallowed, trying hard not to take her eyes off of Wynne and gage the expression on Alistair's face, or even Zevran's. That may have slipped by the former Templar, but an assassin she could not fool. She feared what recognition she'd see there.

If they knew, what would they do? She couldn't trust them. She _couldn't._

"We don't have time for this." Lyna hissed, trying to keep the venom in her voice strong, but it lacked conviction in her own ears. She was scared. Not of the demons, not of abominations, but of the humans and their callous way of destroying anything they didn't understand. Lyna walked away.

She was trying not to run.

Lyna took the stairs two at a time, she knew the others were just behind her, but she didn't stop to take note, she just wanted to get away. Of course, there was little place for peace in the possessed halls of the circle, she wasn't thinking properly, too fueled with fear and anger and more fear.

So of course she nearly walked right into the arms of an abomination waiting at the top of the stairs.

"You look so tired." The things voice dragged as it spoke. She _felt_ tired and tried not to yawn. "Take a rest, you deserve it."

Lyna staggered and swayed. Zevran's arm was suddenly around her, trying to stop her from falling over, but then he too was yawning in her ear.

"Resist… we must-" Lyna was pretty sure that was Wynne's voice. She tried, but Lyna was already down on her knees, Zevran beside her, unable to resist the demon's power any more than she.

Someone else was speaking, (_Alistair_?) but the words were fuzzy in her ears.

"Why do you fight…? You deserve a rest. Sleep… The world will go on without you…"

She was vaguely aware of someone's arms around her. She couldn't think enough to figure who it was, she was just so tired.

The world darkened.

* * *

Bravo; _(Spanish) wild, difficult to control, usually applies to animals. OR; To have lots of character or temper.  
-Typically an animal is 'bravo', a person is 'enojado' (angry, annoyed).  
_Collerico; _(Italian) choleric; irascible, hot-tempered.  
_Sin alegría; _(Spanish) without joy or joyless._

_I don't speak near enough Italian (or Spanish really, but I'm a bit better at that one), why I decided to mix the two languages to form Antivan, well; I can only blame _AkiDragonwings _for giving me an excuse to butcher all the things, and for bugging the hell out of me to update. Love you dear._


	7. Chapter 7

_People who have ideas for one-shot Zev/Mahariel/Zev&Mahariel should send me PMs. Like, totes. Haha._

_Hope you enjoy, this is a doozy of a chapter and a huge pain in my- cough. Can't say I like the fade all that seems to be some reoccurring format errors, I've fixed it three times yet, but it keeps coming back. I apologize for this now if you happen to see it too, but it_ won't _go away. _

_All the love to Aki, as usual, she keeps me from being lazy. :)_

* * *

The Archdemon was dead.

The corrupted dragon like creature lay dead at her feet, its blood splattered on her armor. Cheers of triumph rang around her. Swords bashed against shields in jubilations and the sound, a sting in her sharp elf ears, made her chest swell with pride. Someone clamped a hand on her thing shoulder; Duncan smiled at her, proud. She grinned back at him. She had wished for so long for the chance to prove herself to him, to live up to the faith he had put in her. She had saved Ferelden; she had ended the blight before it could terrorize the land.

Something was wrong.

She and Duncan traveled to Weisshaupt; there was a celebration in her honor. The festival lasted for days, food passed by her mouth but she couldn't remember the taste. She heard voices, songs, but the words and the tune failed to sink in her mind. She wanted to be happy and yet she could not place why she was not. Only one thought stood out as she sat there not hearing the song and unable to remember the dances.

It seemed like forever before the party came to an end. Duncan was so proud of her, and she tried to smile as she did before, but it felt hollow. With the blight over there was no need to travel, her home was now here in the Anderfels. The land was arid and hot here, nothing she was used to; she missed the forests. Duncan told her to relax, rest, she deserved it. She tried to, but rest would not come. A voice echoed in her head.

She realized as she wandered the fortress that she didn't recognize anyone there. Surely she must have had some other companions through the months it took to hunt down the old god and slay it. There were two of them, the last Grey Wardens-

That didn't make sense, they'd survived Ostagar-

Survived?

She remembered the battle it was-

_Glorious_, the boy-king's voice with his shinny armor echoed in her ear.

No, that wasn't right… The king was dead. They'd been betrayed. There was a slaughter-

Something was wrong.

Confused, she went to find Duncan again. He was so proud of her; she could see it in his eyes. She didn't want to disappoint him, couldn't disappoint him. She almost turned back, and yet she couldn't, she couldn't take it any longer. "Duncan," Her voice echoed in the halls like a dream. "What happened at Ostagar? I can't seem to remember well."

"The battle went as planned." He said easily, "We fought off the army of darkspawn and when the Archdemon appeared, it was slain by your hands."

"I… wasn't on the field." She said softly, echoing. "I was sent to light the beckons at the top of the tower.

"You joined my side afterwards." The tower had been overrun by darkspawn. She had to fight her way to the top, fight an ogre at the top. She hadn't been alone.

"Why are you asking these things? Are you not happy?" Lyna forced his words out of her mind. She had to focus on the memory or it would fade.

There had been another, he had cared more for Duncan then even she, mourned him for-

Mourned.

Duncan was dead.

Blades flashed into Lyna's hand. "Who are you?" She hissed. The man who was not Duncan attacked. Lyna blocked a blow, all the while thinking this is not how Duncan fought, yet it was so familiar. _Jory, _she thought, as she knocked his blade wide, far too easily and suddenly her blade was in his gut, his blood splashing over her hands. Her hands trembled as Duncan slump to the ground.

Creators, she'd killed him.

This had to be a dream, had to-

Wake up-

_Wake up!_

The dream fractured and faded away around her.

* * *

Lyna woke again with a start from the nightmare. The world was blurry and muted around her, like she was looking though the dingy window if the inn back in Lothering. It was a struggle to reach her feet, she wanted so much to lie down and go right back to sleep.

"Hey there, let me help," someone spoke, taking her arm gently and helping her to stand. "Congratulations for breaking out of that trap, too bad you stumbled into a bigger one."

Lyna was never a quick riser, even though she was normally awake before the dawn, it always took her several minutes before her mind would warm up and the temptation to fall back asleep wouldn't claim her every time her eyes blinked. "Trap..?" She mumbled, trying to make sense of his words. "A demon…"

"Sloth controls several islands in this part of the Fade, as well as several other demons to guard those islands."

Lyna frowned, shaking the last vestige of sleep from her head. "My com- …My friends are trapped too?"

The man frowned and then sighed. He sounded… tired. "If they fell under Sloth's magic, then they should be here too, somewhere, trapped in a dream the demon thinks they won't try to escape. But you're not going to find a way to them. Believe me I've tried."

Lyna frowned too. "What do you mean?"

"You can reach the other islands, sure, but there's always something blocking your path;" The mage, Lyna was sure he was one, they were the only ones who should be awake in the beyond; she was only conscious for fighting the dream, paused and motioned to the spectral door that stood before both of them. It shimmered with a magic light. "Like a door with no key, or one that is too heavy to open or a curtain of fire. I even saw a mouse going in and out of a small hole, I tried to stop it and ask what was on the other side but it ran away from me."

"You tried talking to a rat?" Mages were strange things, sure, but Lyna didn't think they were _so_ strange, until now at least.

"It's not as strange as it seems, but I guess only if you're a mage." He replied echoing her thoughts nicely and if it wasn't for his defeated sigh, a long and worn thing, she would have laughed. "Everyone here is a dreamer of some kind and everyone in the Fade takes a different shape when they dream. He could have shown me how to become a rat like him, to fit though the whole, or even just what was on the other side. But, it's impossible now."

Surely it couldn't be so hard. Lyna wasn't one to speak to mice, but she had the patience to attempt especially if it might free her and her friends from the demon's hold. "I swear. I've meet too many humans that are defeatists. How does your race survive?"

"I wasn't always like this. This place sucks the hope out of you, the will to go on. I was going to save the circle with the Litany I retrieved from the store room, but then Sloth caught me. I feel like I've been wandering this place for a lifetime…" The mage frowned again, it was almost permanent to his face, and then shook his head. "If you still have hope you need to move quickly, before Sloth manages to steal if from you."

"I'll get us out of here." She told the man with a smile, patting him on the arm. He told her where he last saw the rat, and she trotted off in that direction. It wasn't long before she found a series of small holes that were distinctly rodent size, and waited. Sure enough after a few minutes a nose and twitchy whiskers popped from one hole, testing the air, before scampering off to the next.

"Hey wait," She called, sliding down the uneven ground. She couldn't stop it however and with a squeak it turned and fled.

"Ah! a fox!" The small creature yelped, darting back into the tunnel it came from.

"I'm not a fox…?" Lyna mumbled unsure, sitting on the ground so she could peer into the hole the rat darted into. A little whiskered nose peeked out, twitching. "Hey, come out, please? I need your help."

"You… you're awake." The rat mumbled slowly coming out. He shuffled his hands, rubbing them together, much like a person. Now Lyna understood what the other man had meant. "You're a fox when you sleep. You _should_ be asleep."

"Sloth's dreams leave something to be desired." The Dalish replied with a quirky smile. "I'm trying to reach my friends on the other islands; do you know how I can get there?"

The rat seemed to ponder the thought, tapping a little foot against the ground. "Can always try the holes. There's lots of them, you can get almost everywhere, but a fox is too big. You'll have to become a rat."

"Can you show me?" The little rat rubbed a paw against his nose, and then lifted a hand, the swirling blue light of magic washing over her, forcing her into a new shape. After a moment Lyna blinked, she was eye level with her new rat friend.

Her mouse body was strange. Her hands had become tiny pink paws, her fur was creamy colored, lighter than her hair, but darker than her light skin tone. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, faster than her elven heartbeat, but normal. Her nose twitched, whiskers filling her senses with more information than her eyes and ears could ever give her. She swayed a bit from the influx into her mind and her tail thumped behind her, keeping balance. She picked it up with a hand-paw. "Well this is new…"

"You'll get used to it." The rat before her replied with a smile and a twitch of a whisker.

"Ah, what sweet little mages." The rage demon gurgled, bubbling like living lava it splashed down between the two rats, its body burning the ground were it touched. A head and arms rose up from the pool of lava, a wicked slash of smile where its face would be. The rodents squeaked and ran. "And you were kind enough to shift into morsel size."

The demon undulated as it moved forcing itself forward with a waving pull of the top half of its body, surprisingly fast it turned on the lighter colored rat cresting its burning body over Lyna as she ran on small rat paws. She couldn't defend herself like this! The demon laughed in it burbling voice. "So much more fun when they run!"

It suddenly roared in annoyance when the first rat leaped up and bit the demon's face. The smell of singed fur hit Lyna's nose almost instantly.

"You have to change back!" He shouted.

"How?!"

Remember what it's like to be an elf!" A burning hand reached out and grabbed the little rat; the rage demon threw him against the wall, were he fell desperately still.

Lyna charged the demon, how satisfying it was to feel her blades slip into hand when she reached for them, even more so when the tip of her blade cut into the viscous body of the rage demon and it howled in pain. A molten hand gripped her left arm, melting leather and burning her skin. Her other blade plunged deep into the demon's body about where its intestines would be, and Lyna twisted the dagger with a savage sound in her throat.

With a grunt the demon splashed backwards, his body cooling and turning to stone. Lyna tore off the melted leather of her glove, the burn below was a nasty red thing, already bubbling up with a blister in the shape of a hand, and stumbled over to where the rat had fallen. She picked the small thing up carefully and cradled it in her hands. He grasped for breath. The whole of his body was covered in one wicked burn patches of fur clung to his flesh, singed and blackened from contact with the rage demon. "Go… to other islands, find other dreamers, they can… teach you… more shapes… save… your…"

His head lulled and the light in his eyes died.

"Little friend, I never got your name…" Lyna mumbled to his still form sadly. The ground could not be broken to bury him; she could only leave him under a twisted dream tree with a soft prayer. "_Falon'din_ guide your way…" They were already in the Beyond; he would not have much farther to go.

With a deep breath she remembered how to be a rat and slipped into the hole.

Her whiskers lead her more than her eyes or nose; they could feel the breath of fresh air and twitched in the direction of the current. She swallowed, the cramped darkness of the tunnels sparking a fear she didn't know she had, and closed her eyes as she walked the tunnels. A brush of her whiskers told her when she was too close to the side, and she could pretend she was somewhere else. Soon, thankfully, enough the hole sloped upwards and light greeted her face.

Lyna sensed darkspawn.

She had no way of telling what would happen if she fell in combat here, she could still feel the burn of her arm even though her rat form bore no damage there was no healer and no one to watch her back. Better not risk fighting, just in case the results were just as permanent as real life. Rats were good at hiding, and she scurried from corner to shadowed corner, avoiding the patrols. She wanted to stop and fight, but Lyna reminded herself this was a dream, and she somehow doubted darkspawn slept. No, it would be faster, easier and _safer_ if she slipped by them all and found someone who could point her in direction of the demons that guard this place, or better yet the demons themselves.

It was a slow trek still, Lyna had learned rather quickly how to shift to and from the rat form and she was confident should the Darkspawn notice her that she'd be able to jump to her feet blades in hand and defend herself. The labyrinth she found herself in finally came to a dead end with one last rat hole as an exit. She sighed and scampered in.

The room she found herself in plucked at her senses.

"You! Don't Move!" The man hissed, his back pressed against a pillar

The rat couldn't help but glance around, and then point to herself mouthing the word 'Me?'

"Yes you!" He hissed again, glancing over his shoulder.

She slowly shimmied closer to a pillar, sticking her tiny rat nose around the corner to see what the dreamer spoke of. Darkspawn, Lyna scowled for a moment it thought. There was no way out but through. Suddenly one of the darkspawn growled and turned in their direction.

"It spotted us!" The dreaming Templar growled, taking sword and shield into hand. Lyna was beside him an eye-blink later, and between the two of them the darkspawn were taken down cleanly. Lyna's arm still held the burn from the rage demon, and she stared at it with an unhappy look.

"This is a dream, do you not recall?" The Templar told her with a sagely air. "Forget about it long enough and it will fade away."

Lyna sighed, that probably meant not staring at it. It was a shame she couldn't cover it up with her glove; out of sight, out of mind. "Do you know how to reach the demons on the islands?"

"One lies on the island were your journey began." He told her, and she gave him an annoyed look for his riddle that only made him chuckle. "You will need to open the doors only a spirit can touch." Much the same as with the rat, the Templar forced her consciousness into his chosen dreaming state a spirit. Once she knew how to bring herself to such a state she could switch to it at will. "I share this wisdom with you, little mouse. It is time for me to wake."

The elf gawked. "Wait! Do I really have to _walk_ all the way back?"

The Templar smirked. "No, this _is_ a dream, remember?" He made a motion like he was brushing her away and she was thrown through the fade landing on the island, in the place where she began.

"Show off." She hissed at no one. The mage from before was no longer here, maybe he found it in him to try again. Whatever the reason, the door laid before her. It became solid when she reached for it as a spirit and opened as if it never was locked.

"Humm," The desire demon, Yevena, purred as Lyna step through the door. "What do we have here? An escaped slave? A rebellious minion?" She lets out a throaty chuckle that might have been alluring and made Lyna jealous that a demon could pull off such a sound. As it was, considering that she was there to kill said demon it only gave her another reason to carve into her throat. "We'll have to put you back in your place."

The demon got a blast of ice in her face for her troubles, Lyna just then realizing the spirit had access to magic she didn't. It was a shame the spiritual creature couldn't smile, there was a grin plastered ear to ear for that one. Yevena screamed her rage, knocking Lyna back and out of her spirit form. The elf had no time to pull focus enough to change back, and was forced to roll out of the way of a blast of flame. She pulled her bow free, nocking two arrows in quick succession. One lodged in the demon's shoulder, the other grazed her arm. Yevena howled again reading another scream but the sound was cut short when an arrow punctured her lung.

"You think it will be that easy?" The desire demon bellowed, trying to freeze Lyna in place with the winter's magic. It trapped her left leg - always the left! Why?! - in a block of ice and the demons floated to the helpless elf. With a sneer she cracked off the shaft of the arrow. At least this was a dream; Lyna hated finding replacements for those. "I am not some mere mortal you can silence so ea-"

Yevena gagged a hand on her neck. Blood, purple like her skin tone pouring between her fingertips.

"You were saying?" Lyna replied with an almost innocent smile. The ice had cracked while the demon was talking and now demon blood stained the elf's dagger, Yevena's throat slit; she had been just _dying_ to do that. The demon took another gurgled breath and slumped to the floor. "Guess it wasn't important…"

The ground shifted under her feel like an earthquake. Piece of the island cracked from the main body and floated away. Without the dreamer or the demon's power to hold it together, the dream island was fading away. To where Lyna did not know and she had nowhere to run.

A fissure opened up under her feet as another chunk of land broke away. She ran, trying to remain on the bigger pieces of land, she couldn't know where the abyss below the island will take her if she falls into it. Soon she doesn't have a choice.

The last piece of island breaks in two and fell away taking her with it.

* * *

How could she let his happen?

She was a senior enchanter; she was supposed to protect the young ones in the circle. Yet here she was, the last one standing, surrounded by the dead of her charges. What manner of monster had she become, to allow children to parish before her own life was taken? She was supposed to die _first. _Wynne put her hands over her face and sobbed. For all her wisdom, her power, for all her years, she could not protect them. She'd failed, pure and simple. "Maker, forgive me. I failed them all. I did nothing to stop their deaths."

"They're not dead yet, Wynne. The circle isn't lost yet."

The voice was inconsequential, her words spoken in naiveté to the truth of the world, what did a young Dalish know? She had trusted the girl to help her, thought with a warden's help she'd be able to do the impossible and save the tower. Wynne bit back a harder retort, but her words still held bite when she turned her gaze to Lyna. "How can you say that when you are faced with all this death? Can you not see? There is no one left to save."

The girl mauled over her words, Wynne watching the expression change over her face. The girl was still learning to deal with people, _humans, _she was attempting not to offend, but still unsure of what would. She had a repertoire with Alistair, built on common bonds and weeks spent with only each other for company. Wynne could see the makings of one with the other elf, similar fighting styles meant they played well off each other, knowing what to expect and how the other will react and able to guard one another because of it. Lyna had no such ground with Wynne herself, and the Dalish was grasping at what to say. "This is a dream. We are in the Beyond and the children are still safe, you know this."

"Why was I spared…?" She mumbled with a shake of her head, hardly listening to the girl's words. Wynne had survived death only to be left with this massacre; she felt her spirit breaking all over again. "Leave me to my grief! I must burn their bodies and then mourn their passing until I do am ash…"

Lyna grumbled rubbing her face with her hands, threading her fingers through her hair in frustration. It seemed she finally decided to stop filtering her words. "You are a mage are you not? I know we disagreed over the Tranquil not minutes ago, but you have to listen to me, fight this."

Their disagreement was minor and had been forgotten. Wynne had realized after, when Lyna had turned and practically fled that it had been brought on by fear. As a Dalish she had seen a Tranquil and, even Wynne would admit, such a fate was terrifying to those who didn't understand the necessity of it. This however, this horror that lay at Wynne's feet, the disappointment she had in Lyna for failing to stand by her word, that is what gripped the mage now.

"You have a blatant disregard for the souls of the dead," Wynne snapped back at her. "I did not think the Dalish were so unmoved by heartache!"

"They're not dead yet, but they will be soon if you don't do something!"

Wynne turned on her with a vengeance. She tried! She would have protected them with her life, she had done just that and yet somehow she survived. Wynne _trusted_ her to help and she- "And where were you when this happened? Nowhere to be found. I trusted you as an ally!"

The Dalish girl sighed softly, letting her hands fall to her side, her palms out as she tried again to regain her calm. "Yes, and isn't that proof enough that something is wrong? When have I left your side, tell me, when?"

"We entered the tower-" The mage began and stopped short. "And then… there was this death around me. I… don't recall how… how did I get here?" She couldn't remember. There was no battle, she did not see the apprentices fall, not a one. Most of all, she could not remember when Lyna left her side and in the carnage before her.

"It's a dream, Wynne." The Dalish said again, softly, touching Wynne's arm.

"I always had an affinity for the Fade… I thought I would always… recognize it." The woman shook her head; the fade would explain it, if not everything. Lyna had done that on purpose, given Wynne something – anger – to focus on other than the death around her, until Wynne had given her an inconsistency that she could work with. The mage had to give the Dalish girl a little credit, even if her tactics were a bit harsh, if they knew each other better… No, not the problem now. "Maybe you are right… we should... We should go."

A look of horror washed over Lyna's face.

"Don't leave us Wynne!" The body of an elven apprentice stood before her his eyes still glazed over in death, pale hands stretched out before him. For one horrid moment he reminded her of Aneirin, the quickly realized it was not, but the shock still wracked her.

"Foul creature! Stay away!" She gasped taking her staff in hand. Lyna came to stand beside her, daggers in hand. Wynne knew for sure now that the girl wouldn't abandon her so lightly.

"We'll have to defeat them to leave, I think." Lyna was strangely calm; Wynne wouldn't have thought someone who wasn't a mage could face the things of the Fade without preamble. Maybe she already had it and the things here did not weigh on her mind any longer.

Wynne called on her magic, her connection to it even stronger while standing in the fade. The zombie froze solid. "Shatter it!" She shouted to the Dalish who had never worked so close with a mage before and did not know the depths of their power. She saw Lyna swap her daggers for her bow and smash the hard wood against the iced creature. It broke a part in a thousand pieces even as it did two more zombie apprentices rose up with a gutted moan, each in a partial state of decay. Her magic swirled within he again and the ground below their feet began to buck and tremble violently.

Even with the vicious shaking, Lyna scored more than a few hits, her arrows jutting out of the shambling corpses' chests. The skill of the Dalish surprised Wynne, and she found she was quickly growing to like the young girl. Another crest of magic and the walking corpses were incased in stone and crushed to the ground never to walk again.

"It's over…" The earth stilled below them and the dream came to an end. Wynne knew what came next, with the end of the dream she would be pulled back to her physical form or to whatever force held her in this place. She knew it was beginning the moment Lyna's eyes grew concerned. "Find the others-" She tried to tell her more but her words were cut and her consciousness pulled away.

* * *

"Find the others." Lyna mumbled to herself softly, obviously that's what she intended to do, and while she figured there had been more to the instruction she wished Wynne had chosen a better place to begin. Water on the leaves, Lyna thought softly. A Dalish saying akin to the human's spilt milk. Lyna had never _had_ milk before, so it was kind of hard to use such an analogy.

She had expected the ground to fall away as it had when the desire demon had been killed, but after a few moments of waiting, Lyna realized that wouldn't be the case here. She turned to search for a new path. She found a spirit door tucked away on the top of a hill, assumed the form and stepped though.

The harsh smell of smoke greeted her, choking her lungs before she forced herself to remember this was a dream and such things as breathing wasn't quite as necessary here. The heat of fire, however felt very real, and she tried hard not to recall the rage demon's burning touch, though the lack of pain from her arm told her that she'd manage to forget the thing long enough for it to fade, just as the Templar had said.

The spirit drifted down the hallways, most of the paths blocked by walls of fire. Lyna was thankful for the spirit; it took the oppressive heat better than her mortal form could and even more so when the burning hound barreled through the fire. A blast of cold magic was all it took to put the beasts down. Even the fiery Templars fell to her magic, though she found she had to cast quickly before they got too close.

She'd never before been on the receiving end of a Templar's might as a true mage and she never wished to be there again. Two of them came around the corner, flames licking at their armor. Before she could cast the cold spells they locked the spirit from its magic, rendering it helpless and fell on her. In desperation she dropped the form, blocking a blow and then instantly taking another hit from a shield. Her daggers could not find the kinks in their armor, and even when she found flesh between the joints of the arm guards, the Templar seemed not to notice; out of sight worked for them as well.

Desperate, her body screaming from the compounding burns Lyna tried to imagine the armor as something else; it wasn't shiny steal, it wasn't even leather, it was fabric, _robe. _Her dagger stabbed forward. The dream armor resisted, but her dagger sunk through what was not metal and held fast. With a cry of frustration Lyna kicked the pummel hard with the sole of her boot, armor gave way and the dagger sunk to the hilt. The Templar stumbled backwards, dropping his weapons and fell.

Lyna was down a dagger, but still had an aggressor coming at her back. She rolled out the way of a downward blow and snatched the long sword the Templar had used. It was heavy in her hand. No, _it is just as light as a dagger,_ she told herself and suddenly the blade _was,_ but remained the length of the long sword. Lyna had only watched Zevran for a moment that morning, but if he could do it, it did not hurt to try.

Besides, this was a dream, and she only needed to remind herself she could control it.

She deflected a blow with the much longer reach of the long sword forcing the Templar's arms far apart. His armor was suddenly too small for him and Lyna gutted him. That Templar fell too. Panting she leaned her back against, this time both her arms covered in angry red blisters and fiery pain. Out of sight, out of mind, she reminded herself as she again took on the spirit's form, this time far more vigilant of the aggressors hiding behind the walls of flames. Finally the only path she could take dead ended at a mouse hole and without much thought to it, a rat scampered into the dark depths.

Lyna heard the occupants of the room before she even reached it. Her mouse ears were just as good, if not better than her elven ones and the sounds came to her clear as if they were spoken just at her side in the small dark tunnels.

"Must control… it bubbles… it burns." A man's voice, he chanted the same words over again to himself.

She heard the chuckle of a demon, rage her eyes told her as light filtered into the exit of her tunnel. Lyna could only watch as the Templar was slowly set aflame. The demon and the man turned glowing eyes to the small mouse that had just popped from the hole.

"You must die." They said in unison.

The spirit was quick enough to trap the Templar in a psionic cage, throwing him back and out of the way before the demon fell on her. But his fire did not harm the spirit as badly and a quick icy blast turned the demon into a cooling pile of rock on the floor. The Templar's prison expired then and he charged her with a war cry. Lyna dropped the spirit's form; it was no use against a Templar and met him blade to blade. She couldn't influence his armor as she had done before; he was a true dreamer and not just a figment of the dream itself.

A lucky strike across his wrist sent his sword tumbling to the ground and a pummel to his chest plate sent him to his knees, but Lyna suffered terribly from the hits, her leather armor melting to her skin and leaving anguish across her chest and back. She only had to forget it, she reminded herself, and it would fade like all the other damage done to her here. The pain was so bad however, she wondered if she could.

The Templar breathed deep, gasping for air as the fire around his body snuffed out. Lyna approached ready to end his presence in the fade-dream for good. "Wait no! I am free!" He choked, holding his hands before him in surrender. "The demon, Rhagos, he held me here, gave me his power! Take it and burn _him_ with it!"

This was far different than the other two transformations, rather than change she felt anger bubble within her and her skin warmed. Like the Templar, she was alight with flames; they danced across her skin, but didn't burn. In fact all her burns were gone. "This is helpful." She mumbled, truly meaning it.

"I doubt I'll remember this when I wake, but good luck to you." The Templar faded away and she was left to find her own way forward. The doors were blocked by flames, but Lyna didn't even feel the flames, only a breath of air as she stepped through them.

"This is _really_ helpful." She said again; glad to be done with all the burns. The rage demon that guarded this place stood little chance against her now that she was immune to his burning touch, and he soon fell to her blade, cooling on the ground. Soon enough the land began to break apart. She sighed with a shake of her head. "This… _This_ however, is getting old."

Rather than run from the inevitable, Lyna stood on the edge and jumped.

* * *

They were going to use the rack next.

Zevran's back was a bloody mess. Most of it had gone numb from the pain, the rest was awash of anguish. He had to smile at that, through it all he hadn't made a sound. They had broken every bone in his hands, healed them and broke them all over, but he still hadn't cried out. They must have thought _to the void with this_ because afterwards they chained him to the Catherine Wheel and shattered the bones in his arms and legs. He still didn't make a sound.

Even the healing had not been a reprieve. Somehow the Crows had found a mage who's magic bit like a snake and burned like venom even as it nit bone back together. At the very least he was thankful that the Crows were against permanent mutilation. Can't have ugly assassins, or else why buy elves at all.

They had hung him up to stew for the night. He was tied to a pole by his wrists so that his toes just barely brushed the floor. It was uncomfortable to begin with, but as the night waned on and he tried to give the muscles in his legs a break his shoulders would erupt in agony, but he still wouldn't make a sound.

In the morning they brought him back down and whipped him again. Freshly made scabs were torn away by the cat-o'-nine-tails and he was sure his back came off in chunks. He took it all with barely a grunt, it was too much to stay completely silent, but they would not win.

"Looks like Armos lost," One of his tortures commented with a chuckle.

"Have a- bet going?" he grunted as they chained him to the torture device and pulled it taut. "Hope I- haven't- disappointed."

"Don't you worry your pretty head apprentice; we'll make you scream yet."

"Scream?" The elf on his right replied with a throaty chuckle. "I want to hear him cry for his mummy."

"Zevran, what's going on here?" The third voice was a woman's and it was… strangely familiar. He twisted despite his bonds trying to get a look at who spoke.

Her hair had fallen out of its normal tight bun, the braid coming loose to frame her face and her chest heaved like she'd been in a fight as she walked. Or making love, though for some reason that thought didn't seem to fit with her. Zevran couldn't quite place where he'd seen her before, or how he knew her. He lay back on the wooden table, his back again alight in pain from his motions. He couldn't help another grunt of pain as he spoke. "You're not supposed to… be… here…?"

"_About_ that. Do you know how long it took me to get here? Granted it wasn't all that hard, sides from the whole form change thing, but it did take forever. Or maybe no time at all, it's hard to tell. Did you know you can change your form in the Beyond? I didn't. Not until a little while ago anyway. Can't say I like crawling around as a rat, but…" She was babbling, and it seemed so normal. He had not heard her babble before, and yet he _still_ could not place where he knew her.

Dalish. He thought as she spoke, for some reason and remembered, slowly, she was Dalish. Yet, he still could not recall were they had met. . There had been no lass in the clan he'd run away to years ago that had left such an impression on him. She wasn't supposed to be here, that much was obvious and easier to focus on. It came to him so gradually, she wasn't a _Crow_ and what self-respecting master would allow an outsider in to an initiation?

His mind was unusually sluggish and he suddenly realized she was sitting on the rack next to him, toying with the chains around his wrists. "So yeah, I was hoping your done playing here. I'd really like your help facing the demon that's got us locked up here."

She spoke fast, the pain made it hard to concentrate on what she said. What he did notice though was that she wasn't just toying with the locks around his wrists, but was actively taking picks to it, spare ones held tightly between her lips, trying to get them undone. Zevran hadn't known she could pick locks. "I… cant. This is my test- I have to stay strong-"

"You're already strong." She replied softly past the picks in her mouth, the link clicking under her grasp.

"I'm going to be a Crow-" One of his captors pulled the rack tighter, trying to get him to cry out while he spoke and he bit back the words. The cartilage in his shoulder snapped, the sound was gruesome and loud. Someone cried out. Not he, Zevran had felt it coming and accepted it with little more than an exhaled breath, his eyes shut. The pain was terrible, but it would be healed and done again if his torturers thought it necessary, or if they were feeing especially cruel, his vote being on the latter. He realized it had been _her _is who cried out on his behalf; she leaned over him, tears in her eyes.

Was that, not pity he wouldn't accept it… but _sorrow_ for him? Who cared for some _whoreson – _that name was always bitter on his tongue - crow apprentice? The Dalish he had met had been just as hard as the crow masters, too long living close to Tevinter, too many children stolen and too many lives lost to the Magisiters that they cared for no one, not even run away elves. She couldn't be Dalish and be so kind, but then, she is leaning over him with sadness in her eyes. Her gaze flickered down to the wooden table, realizing that is was covered in blood, fresh blood, _his_ blood and the tears came trickling down her face. One fell from her eye, landing on his cheek and following the curve of his tattoo to run off and into his hair. She couldn't help the tears or the hitch in her throat, but there was a small smile on her face. Zevran could not look away from those emerald eyes. "Zev, you're _already_ a Crow."

_You are too kind, Warden. _His own voice echoed in his mind and _finally_ recollection dawned on him.

"…Lyna?"

The dream fractured and the demons howled in rage.

Zevran fought against his bindings, but Lyna had only managed to get one undone before they fell on her. "My, aren't they eager." She mused aloud hopping up onto the table he lay chained too. He heard the twang of her arrows and then a wicked smack against soft flesh as she batted a demon back with the thick wood of her bow. "'Scuse me." She mumbled to him as she moved off the table with a careful step over his torso, taking out one demon with just an arrow into its eye, its shaft gripped in her hand like a spear and by the time the chains were free from around his ankles the other had fallen to a blade twisted in his gut.

"Well, that was bracing." He commented ever so lightly, her only response was to cross her arms and give him a skeptical look; he could still see the tears laced in her eyes. Shed on his behalf. She pretended they were not there, and for her he would pretend not to notice. "There's nothing like a good racking."

"Can't say it looked all that appeali- Hey! Not you too!" Lyna's seemed to blur where she stood, slowly fading out of focus.

"Where are you-" The dream world, too, became hazy and then everything faded away entirely.

* * *

As with Wynne's nightmare, this island did not break apart and fall like the other two areas had. Lyna sighed faintly searching for a way to continue. No spirit door greeted her. Finally she found a mouse hole hidden under the rack-table. "Wanted to see me as a mouse, huh Zevran?" Lyna mumbled over her shoulder, almost sure she could hear his amused chuckle.

She was greeted by a library when she next emerged.

This was the dream Sloth should have dumped her in. Lyna would not have thought twice about being left with all the books she could ever read. She snorted at the thought; stupid demon was too lazy to put some thought into his cages. She should probably be thankful for that; the books would probably all be boring anyway.

The door opened up to a hallway that reminded her much of the Circle and she realized this was how so much forbidden magic was spread though the mages that inhabited the tower. Lyna couldn't know if burning the books here would have any real effect, but that didn't stop her from trying and it was oddly satisfying.

There was mages here too and they were more than the dream things and demons she had fought so far. They knew instantly what her burning form was and slapped her hard with cold magics, but they were weak without blood to augment their powers. The spirit was more than capable of weathering their attacks and dealing back more damage than the mages could suffer.

It was a shame killing them here would not do more than wake them; at least that was what Lyna assumed. From the conversations she overheard, it seemed like they'd all gone mad half of them were attacking each other before she even arrived and it was only a matter of picking them off.

More than once however, the blood mages ganged up on her and she was thankful the spirit could heal itself, cage aggressors, and damage several mages at once. Lyna was even forced to lure away mages from a room and to one another, their combined strength too much for her to take on alone.

She climbed several sets of stairs, tired and sore and unable to forget either when she stumbled on a mage being surrounded by others.

"H-Help! Help me!" He cried. How could Lyna say no?

It was a blessing to have someone fight beside her again. Lyna was not meant for one-on-one combat, which had been proven to her time and again as she traveled these dreams. She was too small and delicate, even though her strikes come quick and her aim true. She did not have the brute strength a warrior had to weather strikes and pay them back. No, Lyna's skill was in quickly taking out weakened opponents, or in archery. The last mage fell and she pondered the thought. She had more in comment with an _assassin _then she thought and Zevran would have gotten a laugh out of that.

Lyna wondered if he would still be willing to spar with her. If, _when_ they managed to break free of this place.

The mage she has saved breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the stone pillar behind his back. "They were trying to convert me to blood magic, they wanted my strength." He told her softly. "You are trying to fight the demons here? I will lend it to you."

The form he gave her was of a massive golem. Lyna almost giggled in delight, the form felt like solid rock and she was strong, _so very strong_. She felt unbeatable, it was a good feeling. Lyna turned to thank the mage, but he was already gone, woken up she supposed and climbed the last set of stairs, breaking down the solid door with her Golem form.

The desire demon ran, shifting into a mouse and bolting down a hole, playing at a game of hide and seek. Lyna rolled her eyes, but was forced to follow her in the same way. Vereveel was waiting for her the moment the rat popped from the hole with a blast of cold magic.

The spirit hardly felt it.

Vereveel was quickly trapped in a psionic prison, and Lyna learned then that desire demons don't like burns any more than she did. Lyna _also_ learned that the burning form had the ability to use those very spells. The desire demon could only look on in horror as her existence was snuffed out with a blast of heat.

"Alright, Alistair." She mumbled as the world broke apart around her. "It's your turn."

* * *

He had finally gotten up the nerve to go to Denerim; he couldn't remember when the last time he was in the city. Before his Templar training, he was sure, he met his half-brother, well, saw. But, no, enough about that, he was going to see someone so much more important.

He found her home easily enough in the maze of a market pace and stood before the door ready to knock.

Ready… to… knock.

"Gah!" He turned away, clapping his hand over his face. No, he was going to do this, he was coming to see her and that was final! Alistair took a deep breath, counted to seven, and turned back to the door.

A woman stood the door way, leaning against the frame her arms crossed. She was beautiful, and the amused smile that crossed her face told him, his rant had not stayed in his head. "Am I- Did I… um."

"Looks like my little brother finally came home." Goldanna laughed, such a happy thing, and took Alistair's hand, dragging him inside. She introduced him to her children, five of them running in and out of the house in a constant stamped. They called him Uncle Alistair, the boys wanted him to teach them how to sword fight, the one youngest girl shyly give him a hug and welcomed him home.

Home.

He had never been so happy, so welcomed. Lady Isolde had chased him out of the only other home he knew, the chantry had made him miserable and the wardens… they were gone now. That was done, passed. He couldn't help her anymore; she hardly wanted it after what he'd done to her and he didn't blame her.

There was a knock at the door and Lyna stepped in when one of the children answered.

"Oh hey! I was just thinking of you, isn't that a _marvelous _coincidence." She shuffled nervously; Alistair had never seen her do that. Lyna was always so confident. Alistair ignored it; he was much too happy right now. "This is my sister Goldanna, and these are her children and there's… _more_ of them somewhere about."

"Alistair…" He waved off her words before she could finish.

"No, no, I know what you're going to say. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot like that before, it wasn't right of me… But that's all over now right?" She looked away, her gaze drifting to the floor. She was trying to get up the nerve to tell him something he wouldn't like, that much he understood.

"No Alistair, it's not… we still have work to do."

Alistair shook his head. Turning to stare out into the house, he listened to the laughter of his nephews and nieces, of his sister humming happily in the kitchen as she cooked a minced pie just for him. He had everything he'd ever wanted right here, he didn't want to give it up. "I- I don't want to go. I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it _didn't_. This _does_."

"I still _need_ you, Alistair. I'm sorry for being upset with you before, but I can't do this without you, please." There was a plea in her voice that was very un-Dalish, she was always _so_ proud. So much so that it burned her terribly to ask for help, he'd seen it and realized how little of the world she knew outside her clan and her people. When they had been surprised by her lack of knowledge in something they considered so basic, it wounded her as sure as a bite from a blade. To have her beg him, plead with him… _"Please."_

"I…" He sighed turning back to her, and smiled just a bit. "Did you know your ears droop when you're sad? I can't say no to those puppy eyes. Alright."

"No!" Goldanna roared, her voice echoed with a dark power. "He is ours, you cannot have him!"

"Goldanna?" Alistair mumbled as his sister came into the room. The house seemed to fall away around him, as if it had never existed in the first place. "What's going on?"

"It's a dream Alistair, demons had you trapped here. You'll have to fight them to get out." He couldn't fight his sister! He stood dumbfounded as his sister attacked Lyna, clawing at leather armor and snapping at her like a deranged animal.

Alistair heard the sharp sound of arrows in flight and reflexively pulled up his shield, but they had not been aimed for him. Lyna cried out as the metal tips cut through her armor staining it red with her own blood. The children, they'd somehow turned into twisted corpses and rained arrows down on the one who had interrupted their meal. Lyna couldn't fight them all off, not with Goldanna pinning her down.

He smashed his shield into his sister – the _demon _ – knocking it away from Lyna. Arrows clanged uselessly against the barrier giving the Dalish enough time to switch her daggers for her bow. The arrows in her arm made it hard to hold her aim steady, but the archers on the hill fell quickly anyway. A moment later Goldan- the demon pulled itself to its feet, but fell again to the tip of Alistair's sword.

The two wardens were both panting when the last demon fell. "Creators, I'm so tired…" She mumbled with a shake of her head.

"So, um. This... was a dream. Can we _not_ tell the other's how easily fooled I was?" Lyna laughed softly the sound seemed like it was getting farther away. She was suddenly fading away. "Hey, were are you going? What's happening?"

Alistair never got an answer.

* * *

Lyna remembered this place, it stank of darkspawn. And she recalled that she'd been thrown from this area before having fought the demon that ruled it. This time she spared no quarter for the darkspawn that lingered here. Her golem form was more than a match, even if it lacked the subtlety she was used to. They heard her coming and charged her in mass. Bowling for darkspawn quickly became a fun game.

The door that blocked her way was also no match for the golem strength and when Lyna knocked down the door she was greeted with the final demon. He had taken the form of an ogre. She laughed, _laughed_ and then barreled into him, grabbing him by the horns.

Golems beat Ogres.

She let the golem form fade away once the demon's head was something akin to pulp, just as the ground began to shake and the world fractured away. Lyna silently begged the Creators that she might be done with this place soon.

Finally she stood in the raw fade. There were no dreamers about, and no twisted landscapes she had to navigate through. Before her stood a demon, he had taken the form of a spirit, but reeked of wrong, of demon.

"I gave you such nice dreams; I tried to make you happy. I _can_ try again." Really? This demon thought being the hero of the blight would make her happy? Granted, yes, part of her would be. Lyna wanted to see Duncan again. She wanted the human to be proud of what she'd managed to accomplish to prove she'd been worth saving, but that's not what she had wanted with her life. It was the fall back, the plan-B when everything burned around her and she had been left standing in the ashes. It was…

"Oh." The demon whispered softly and Lyna paled, he'd heard her thoughts.

The world went dark.

* * *

The forest sung happily in the breath of a breeze. Birds twitted endlessly in their nests and the sun shined hot on Lyna's face. It was a good day in her forest home. Normally she would have been out on a hunt for the clan, but today was a bit different and she was not hunting a meal. No, today was even better; she got to chase off some meddling _shemlen_ that got too close to camp.

They crashed through the woods like thunder; it was laughable how easy it was to track them down. Her partner was near; a whistle of a bird that had no business singing during this time alerted her to his presence. The three _shems_ blundered into the point of her bow, looking shocked that a Dalish had them cornered.

Two _shems_ and an elf.

She shook her head at the thought, no three _shemlen_. That was strange; she never liked calling them _shems_ before, that was the word city-elves used, more of an insult then a simple name. The point of her bow motioned them along, no matter, they needed to leave anyway. "Alright _shemlen_, you've got one warning; turn around now and return to whatever village you're from."

"Listen to us dear, this is a dream, you must wake yourself." What was an elder woman doing running around the woods? Lyna was sure these humans had more sense than that, but then again she'd never known _shem_, _shemlen,_ did she?

"You're really falling for this?" The male _shemlen_ asked, he was dressed in shiny armor and Lyna was suddenly reminded how they liked to send their Templars to try to hunt down Dalish mages. An arrow snapped into the ground before his feet and he jumped back throwing his hands up in surrender, another arrow already trained on him this time to kill.

Her partner slid into her sight beside her, his own bow pointed at the three trespassers. "Lethallan, we should do away with these intruders."

"Fenarel," That was strange, it was never Fenarel that went hunting with her. It was always… always… It was hard to think. It hurt to think of him, so much so she couldn't bring up the memory of… of …His brother. That was who would accompany her into the woods. "What are you doing here..?"

"Brother is sick, remember?" His words came slowly and Lyna did remember, she felt bad for him, but the keeper would heal him soon enough, just like she did for Lyna.

Just like when Lyna was sick.

…When had she been sick?

"If we let the humans go they'll raise their village against us again." Fenarel was saying. Lyna blinked trying to collect her thoughts, her head hurt. "We should end them now, Lethallan."

He was right, really he was, but she couldn't do it. Not then, not now. When had there been a 'then'? "Fen, you know I don't like doing that. Let's just chase them off, they won't come back."

"Ah, so this is a regular thing for you is it my dear Warden?" She couldn't focus on the third _shemlen_, she was sure he wasn't… "And here you had me thinking I was special, how sad."

"Warden?" She mumbled, a Gary Warden? Why was he calling her that, she wasn't a Warden, just a Dalish hunter and happy for it. She tried to focus on the one speaking, but for some reason it was hard. He wasn't a _shemlen_… he was an elf. She closed her eyes a moment; it hurt to look at him for too long. "You know me..?"

No, there were three _shemlen_.

He was waving off the other two humans, _shemlen, they are shemlen,_ making them step back as he came closer. "Yes, Warden. Do you not recall?" It was hard to keep her eyes on him, like she was looking at him through water and every time she looked away she forgot everything important about him. "You caught my ambush not a tenday ago, you should have killed me, but you did not. For that I swore loyalty to you, without reservation, do you not recall this?"

"I never…"

"We must kill them Lethallan, it's the only way." Fenarel said again, but he was always as hard nose as his brother about _shems –_no, _shemlen-_ near the camp. "They'll only bring more, they'll attack the clan."

_I am your man without reservation, this I swear. _A heavily accented voice rang in her mind; she'd heard these words somewhere. He was still trying to come closer and she trained her bow on him, forced to focus on him even though it made her head swim. "Stay back _shemlen_, I really don't want to have to kill you, go back _now_."

"How cruel you are my dear, confusing me for a human. I am _far_ more handsome." She knew this voice, she was trying hard to keep focus on him but it was making her head hurt even more, if she blinked, she'd lose it all, her eyes watered with the effort to keep them open. "Come now, am I really so easily forgotten?"

His hand touched the curve of her bow, slowly pushing it away from any bodily harm she could cause.

How had he gotten so close?

Why was she letting him?

She should kill the _shem…len_, protect her clan. It was her duty as a hunter. Wasn't that the calling of the mark on her brow? She was a child of Mythral, protect the clan. Kill the _shemlen_, she had to, her leniency towards them had only ever brought her pain.

Mythral was the embodiment of calm in the face of anger, something she'd been sorely absent of the last few days. Lyna couldn't do it.

"Lethallan what are you doing? These _shemlen_ will only bring us harm!"

"This one isn't human, Fenarel…" She whispered softly. She knew the mark on the side of his face, the sweeping lines that held no meaning that she knew of other then to make its bearer look more captivating. "We don't hurt other elves."

Her clan _never_ hurt other elves.

"You're half way there, my dear Warden." He said with a chuckle, she found her bow string relaxing. He'd plucked the arrow from her hand and there wasn't any reason to hold it taunt. "I am your man, so what is my name?"

"Who cares who he is? He's a flat-ear traveling with _shemlen_; he's no better than they are! We should kill them all and return to the clan. Or do you not care for your Dalish blood anymore?" Lyna hadn't been listening to Fenarel, but that comment got her attention. More than anything she was shocked to hear him call another elf a 'flat-ear,' to hear him question her pride as a Dalish and she instinctively turned to berate him.

A hand on her faced stopped her from breaking the link with golden eyes.

Fenarel was _trying_ to get her to look away.

Lyna _did_ know this elf, how would she know a city-elf? She tried thinking back. Somewhere on the road, she was attacked, memories blurred. He introduced himself with a smirk, even though he was tied up. He was… He was… "Zevran."

"Welcome back, Warden." He snapped into focus, a hand on her cheek, a smug smile on his face. He had brought her back the same way she'd freed him of his own nightmare. She might have turned just a little pink. She couldn't help it; his face was very close to hers and she just didn't have the confidence now to hold his gaze. Lyna swallowed audibly.

"You couldn't leave it alone could you?" Fenarel growled his voice echoed with the malice of another being, of the puppeteer of a demon, dark energy boiling off his body. He seemed to grow in size and towered over the group gathered. "I gave you what you wanted; _exactly_ what you wanted this time and this is how you repay me!?"

"No, this is." Lyna replied swinging her bow around, Zevran deftly handing her arrow back, it struck the demon right between the eyes.

* * *

_Poor Mattimeo (cookies for the reference), I still wonder who and what he was. The magi origin left me even more confused (seriously, what the heck happened? All I got was that I didn't die, and maybe I should have). Despite that, this now links up with Fox Paws and that makes me happy. :)_

_Writing from the perspective of other characters besides Lyna and Zev… not so much. I hope I didn't butcher them too much; Wynne and Alistair- I like them, I really do, just not as much. Haha._

_I was never happy with the dream the sloth demon gave you, especially for my Dalish elf. Her happiness would always be with her clan, particularly with Tamlen. In this case Lyna shoved thoughts of Tamlen so deep (when the Knight-commander's armor was reminding her of the _Eluvian_, btw, teehee) that not even Sloth could reach it (or maybe he was too lazy to try), so he was forced to use Fenarel instead. Good thing too, I think that if Tamlen had told her to kill them, she would have and I would have a very short and depressing story. The demon also made the mistake of trying to hide Zevran, knowing it would be near impossible to make her attack another elf. Lucky he was there; if it was all humans I really doubt they would have been able to snap her out of it, another near miss!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Do you all wonder what Lyna looks like? I did. So I drew her! Check it out!_

_dragon-master-naya. deviantart. art/ Lyna-Mahariel-470677058  
You'll have to add in the com- and the forward slash before art yourself, DA has gotten wise to tricks.  
_

_There's nothing else Dragon Age in my gallery, just a lot of cutesy Pokémon and the occasional non-age dragon. Browse at your own discretion._

_There is, also, a lot of cuteness and fluff in this chapter. It's all Aki's fault; she kept giving me these ideas! She is also the creative master of fights, I don't know what I'd do without you girl! :)_

* * *

The forest-dream around Lyna shattered, Sloth unable to hold the image with an arrow between his eyes. With a roar that knocked her and the others to the ground Sloth became an ogre and charged into Alistair, throwing him to the side like a rag doll. Zevran dodged around the swipe of a huge claw, lacerating the ogre's arm and he moved. Wynne stepped in with a fireball to sloth's chest and buying enough time for the former Templar to scramble to his feet turning to Lyna. "Can't you do that thing you did at Isval?"

"You think that was easy!?" The Dalish caught an arrow in the ogre's throat. Sloth broke the shaft and turned her way, charging with a chilling roar, but Alistair had given her an idea. The ogre crashed into the golem, its horns held fast in stone fists. She twisted the demon's neck nearly snapping it, forcing the massive body to the ground. Zevran was there a moment later, on top of the Ogre with his blades deep in the things chest.

"You think to use my own power against me!?" A blast of power knocked them all to the ground and Lyna felt the strength of the golem _rip_ from her spirit. She swayed on her feet, clenching her chest from the pain, it felt like her breath had been stolen from her lungs and she stood stunned and unable to move. The ogre was gone, but a rage demon bubbled up from the spot where it fell. Burning hand closed around her neck, lifting her off her feet and searing her skin. "What other powers have you stole from me?"

She pulled at the living lava's hands, her bow falling away somewhere, but only succeeded in adding more burns to her hands. The demon shook her and snarled at her, beyond actual words. Lyna couldn't hold it back, the pain was too much and the burning form came to her. The demon smashed her to the ground, smothering her flames and reclaimed his power. Burns that had been healed by the burning form came back tenfold, like Lyna had been knocked into a pile of hot coals. Lyna whimpered and thrashed against the demon's grip, trying to remember that this was a dream, that the burns weren't real, but she could _smell_ her flesh cooking. She screamed.

A blast of cold washed over her, half the rage demon incased in ice, the other bubbled and spit against the cold steam rising from the ice were it touched heat and melted. Hard steel flashed before her eyes, shattering the frozen arm of the demon. Sloth reeled backwards from the wicked wound, dropping Lyna to the ground. Wynne's arms were around her a moment later, helping the Dalish to her feet. She tried to tell the mage she was okay, but she could hardly breathe passed the burning wounds on her neck. A wave of healing magic flowed from Wynne, the water of her magic so very soothing on the burns.

""You still have my power! I can feel it in you!" Sloth's rage faded to ash. Then it rose up again as a wraith and screeched. The shade moved like the wind, its body only half corporal it left trails of ash and dust as it surrounded Wynne and Lyna were they stood. It hacked down at the Dalish with wicked claws; his focus was on her alone. Demon claws met the thick wood of a mage's staff, Wynne staggered under the force of the blow, but held firm. Sloth's ethereal red eyes bore Lyna who stood safely behind the elder mage. "I will have it back!"

"You want it?" Lyna stood tall, looking the demon in the eyes without fear. A small smile played on her face. "Come take it."

Lyna took off in a run towards were she dropped her bow. The demon howled in rage turning to pure ash it flew by like a shadow across the ground reappearing before the elf just as she knocked an arrow and let it fly into its chest. The demon slashed with spectral claws, but the nimble elf had stepped out of the way. The shade's back opened up in pain, and turned to the new attacker, Zevran taunting the demon with a silent smirk. Another arrow stick into Sloth's shoulder and he forgot the golden elf in favor of Lyna and his stolen power once again.

The Dalish ducked around a stalagmite-like structure and the wraith followed wrapping its body like a snake around the stone and struck like one. This time the elf wasn't quite fast enough and talons cut through leather armor even as she spun away from his grasp. Sloth's small victory was short lived as Alistair's blade cut into his side and the demon screeched in pain. Lyna snatched the demon's attention back with another volley of arrows. She stood out in the open, layering on the wounds on the demon's chest as it advanced on her. Sloth's face twisted into a smile thinking he had his prey in hand.

The ground shook below him, stone fits rising out of the ground. Sloth was fast enough to get one arm free before they wrapped around the demon and crushed him into the ground. "I will not- be defeated. Not while- my power… remains." The demon croaked, clawing at the ground with his freed arm defying the force of the spell.

"What? This?" Lyna waved the spectral form of the spirit appearing beside her. "_I_ don't need it." Lyna blew her spirit form a kiss and it floated away with her breath.

Sloth wailed in rage stone cutting of the sound with sharp silence.

The fade was quiet at last.

"We are ridiculously awesome." Zevran chuckled coming up beside her, Alistair and Wynne not far behind. Lyna laughed softly at his words, but she felt tired and somehow not physically so. She had spent most of her sleep solving traps and shifting forms, her mind was tired of thinking when it should be resting just as her body was. It was no wonder Sloth had been able to trap her a second time, she hadn't the sense to resist.

Wynne put a hand on her shoulder with a motherly smile. "It's time to wake up dear."

True to her words the three of them began to fade as their consciousness returned to their bodies. Lyna was slow to wake and they were long gone before she even began to feel herself pull back from the Beyond. "Hey-" She called, looking around for the mage she had met. "Um- Defeatist? Are you still there?"

A voice chuckled from behind her. "Niall. My name is Niall."

Lyna turned with a smile on her face. "We can go back now, Niall."

The mage sighed and shook his head. "I… won't be going with you. Sloth had been using my life to fuel the nightmares and link the islands together. There's… there's not enough left of me to go back."

The little Dalish elf was sad, her ears drooped just the slightest bit. "I… I'm sorry… I took too long. If-"

Niall placed a heavy had on her head, and for once Lyna didn't mind being treated like a child. "Don't fret. I did what I could, helping you reach all the islands and your friends. Now, you better wake soon. I'll be leaving for the Maker's side soon, or so they say."

"_Dareth shiral_, Niall, safe journey." He smiled and for once it wasn't laced with the heavy sadness of Sloth's domination over him. Lyna had freed him, even if it hadn't saved his life.

"Thank you, and goodbye friend." It was that bittersweet feeling that led her from the Beyond.

* * *

It wasn't the first time Zevran woke up on the floor, but usually when that happened he was too drunk to remember what happened the night before. His nightmare, Lyna's efforts to free him and the fight with Sloth were all sharp in his mind like no dream, but a memory. Lyna shifted in his arms. _Gone to keep her from cracking her head open again, and walk right into a trap. Ah, Zevran, did you not say your loyalty ended at dying for someone?_

"Would you stop milking it? I know you're awake." Alistair was glaring at him when he opened his eyes and Zevran taunted him with a sly smirk.

"Jealous, Alistair?" The Templar's animosity towards him didn't bother the elf, none of it did. He expected it, if they were to judge him on a superficial basis it was well within their right. He knew what kind of person he was and he made the best with what he was given, without a care to what others thought. The only opinion that really mattered was Lyna, if only because hers was the deciding factor of weather he remained or not. She was too kind to kick him out, even if he had _milked_ it a little.

Lyna shifted again, mumbling softly. She was trying to wake up, but it seemed sleep did not leave her easily. There was a trail of tears running down her face, the ones shed on his behalf during his nightmare, his memory. He frowned, and wiped the tears from under her eyes with a calloused thumb. The thought was touching, but it was in the past. No tears would erase the scars on his back; he could only ignore them and pretend they were not there.

Without even opening her eyes, Lyna sat up, his little fun stolen in her sleep-haze. She yawned; one had over her mouth and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands. He saw it come to her, the events of the fade, watched her rub her arm absently and he thought some creature had caught her there and the memory of the pain manage to follow her. Her eyes flick an instant to Wynne who was being helped to her feet by Alistair, knightly as a Templar, and then her hand drifted up to her cheek. Zevran had whipped those tears away not a moment ago, but her face was still wet from their presence and he knew she remembered.

Her focus moved on and suddenly her hand dropped staring at the floor her mouth parted in disbelief. He watched her shoulders slump slightly and this time she did turn to him, shame, guilt and gratitude cast in her eyes in equal parts. Her own dream, Zevran realized, she had attacked Alistair and only Zevran's fearlessness had pulled them free of her dream. Lyna was ashamed for having fallen for Sloth's illusions, a second time if they had all been trapped in one upon being dragged into the fade. She was guilty for having attacked them and, Zevran smirked faintly, the gratitude was for him, for saving them.

The assassin stood, stretching out his back from the nap on the hard floor. "I seem to recall we have a circle to rescue, no? I think we've spent enough time napping, what do you say Warden?" As he spoke he offered a hand to Lyna and a roguish smile. She accepted and he pulled her easily to her feet. Her face tinted the faintest bit pink, their proximity not all that far off from when they stood in the fade together, but she nodded her agreement if only to escape his heated stare and drifted over to the mage.

Wynne had collected something off one of the poor sods that had fallen to Sloth before they arrived and went about explaining its use. It was some relic that dispelled blood magic, the Tranquil having spoken of it in the room below. Zevran wasn't truly listening, if only for the barest amount of information that might be useful at some point. The mage and warden had the task well in hand, and the assassin departed to stand by the only exit upwards.

"Leave her alone." Alistair grumbled watching Lyna for any hint that she heard him. She had, Alistair did not seem to realize how good elf hearing was, but the Dalish kept her gaze on task and responded to Wynne without missing a beat. "She's young; you're taking advantage of that."

"Do you know what that mark on her brow is, Alistair?" The other warden looked dumbfounded, and Zevran gave a half snort and fought not to roll his eyes. "It is a rite of passage. You would disrespect her people's traditions by treating her as a child? No wonder she still calls you _shemlen._"

Alistair gaped lamely, loss for words he looked like a fish, and Zevran didn't even tell the Templar how much pain those tattoos caused, or that she had to accept them without a cry of pain. He waited until Lyna was absorbed in the conversation with Wynne before speaking again, sure that she would not hear, but dropped his voice slightly as a precaution. "I will only go as far as she is willing to allow. This however is her choice. Or are you trying to cover your own feelings for her, Alistair?"

The other warden stuttered half words and sounds, bringing a sly smirk to the former crow's face. Even if it were true, Alistair was in for disappointment, Dalish as a rule of self didn't bond with humans, and there was little chance that Lyna would ever look at the man as anything more than a friend.

"I can't leave you alone for a minute can I?" Lyna cut in, giving the two of them incredulous looks, she had pulled that strong mask of hers on again, but Zevran was starting to see the cracks in it. Alistair began pointing a finger in the assassin's direction.

"He- He-"

"Said something flirtatious or mildly offensive and you took the bait?" The Dalish rolled her eyes, but kept smiling. "He _does that._ I thought we established that. Let it go Alistair, you're not going to change him and neither am I. Accept that he is who he is; _Vir Bor'assan."_

Zevran was not caught off guard often, but to hear the warden so plainly state her opinion of him and to have it be something so open. The fade had shown her his lowest moment, broken and beaten in the name of initiation she had not shown him pity then and her words did not hold it now. A Dalish, he thought, could never be so accepting and yet here she stood before him.

Alistair crossed his arms and pouted. Zevran thought the words were familiar, but it had been many years since his short time with the Dalish. "And that means..?"

"Way of the Bow," She told him, patting him on the arm before turning to climb the stairs. Her voice echoed back down the stairwell to them. "A bow bends with the will of the one who pulls its strings, sometimes to extremes, but it never breaks."

Her eyes caught his, and Zevran knew they would never speak of it unless he wished, but that her words were for him, not Alistair. Lyna did not see him as broken and that too was a gift he had not expected.

* * *

The next floor was eerily empty, the group hastened to cross it, they could hear heavy thumps and ominous sounds coming though the stone floor above.

"This trick again?" The Templar behind the shield groaned, slipping down to one leg and clasped his hands before his head. "I will _not_ break."

"I've never seen a spell like this before and the boy is exhausted." Wynne mumbled softly. Lyna touched the barrier it was solid and there was an uncomfortable heat to it, but nothing that outright burned her. "Rest easy, help is here."

"Enough visions- if anything in that's human kill me now!" The Templar hissed. "Filthy blood mages, getting in my head… I'd rather die, and then submit to you."

"We're not blood mages." Lyna almost said they were not mages at all, but then she remembered Wynne was standing just behind her. "We're trying to save the Circle; do you know what's going on up there?"

"You- You're…" The Templar stuttered, still unsure if he should believe his eyes or not. "Greagoir didn't send you, did he? There's no saving them, kill them all for what they've done. They tortured us, turned some into monsters I- I'm the only one left."

"I need to find the first enchanter." Lyna pointedly ignored the Templar's view on mass slaughter, she had already been in this argument and between that and the trip into the fade she didn't have to mental fortitude to even be angry at the moment. The Templar was helpful enough, however his eyes drifting to the steps that stood off to the side of his cage.

"In the harrowing chamber. The sounds coming down from there… oh _Maker_…"

Wynne touched Lyna's shoulder, ready to be on their way with that revelation. It was more prompting then Lyna needed to agree with her. "We must hurry, they are in grave danger, I'm sure of it."

The Templar was aghast at her words and slammed his fists against the magical barrier. "You can't plan to save them! You have to kill them _all!"_

This time Lyna did turn to the man, her green eyes heavy with anger. "There may be innocent people up there, people who can still be saved. You want me to sacrifice them for your fear?"

"For the greater good, you don't know how many of them have turned to blood magic! You can't take the risk!"

Lyna walked up the barrier, she was short, but looked up at Cullen and into his eyes. "I will tell you the same thing I told Greagoir, I won't allow people to die just because someone else is too cowardly to do a little hard work to save them. As long as I can hold a blade in my hand I _will _defend them, Mythal guide me."

"I see there is no convincing you." Cullen sighed and shook his head stepping back, his words held no hint of sincerity. "Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn't doomed us all."

The stairs brought them to the harrowing chamber, and the magic being cast burned her skin, just by entering in the room. Three abominations stood around a man as he turned to greet Lyna and her companions. "Welcome _Intruder_, care to join in our revels?"

"I think he's possessed." Lyna stated flatly, looking at Wynne, and not caring for much for the man that stood before her. The mage nodded, a bit confused. "Good, then I don't have to bother trying to talk him down."

The demon within the man's body snorted. "And here I was trying to have a civilized conversation. Do you not realize, a mage is just the larval form of something greater? We are vilified, called abominations, when in truth we have only reached our full potential, become something glorious.

"I could give you this gift little _Dalish_. I know-" There was a malicious smile on Uldred's face, the demon behind it cackling. Of course it would know the truth. Lyna paled. "-I could give it to _all _of you. I even have the First enchanter on my side, don't I Irving?"

Irving twitched against the force of blood magic, his breath ragged. "S-stop h-him. Building- a-army. Hh-"

"Sly little fox, telling on me like that, and here I thought- well never mind. But, ahh, he will serve me eventually, as will you." Uldred shuddered, and jerked his back bowing backwards. His body bubbled, grew, skin ripped as the thing within him pulled free of its mortal shell. Blood and gore covered the pride demon's dark flesh at turned on the group with the glowing eyes of the ethereal.

"What do you think guys," Lyna tilted her head to the side staring up at the demon. "Kind of reminds me of an ogre."

Alistair chuckled. "Let hope this one's breath isn't as bad as one."

The pride demon was accompanied by the abominations. The two rogues flanked one, spinning it back and forth between them until Zevran knocked it off its feet and Lyna slit its throat. Alistair smashed his shield into the second, kicking the wind out of its still mortal body and stabbing it though the chest when it staggered. The last went to Wynne who blasted it with primal magics, one after the other until the two rouges, could come behind and take it down with a stab in the back.

The pride demon plowed into them with a massive attack, knocking Lyna and Alistair to the ground. It shot a bolt of cold in Zevran's direction, barely catching him in the ice. The assassin flipped the his dagger in his hand and shattered the ice with the pummel without so much as a thought, but the demon turned away to the group of stunned mages that remained trapped by the blood magic spells.

Alistair charged hacking at any available flesh scoring a wicked hit across its forearm when it reached down to swat Zevran away, who's slices were fare less numerous, but his strikes dug deep and his blades were covered in some poison that burned like fire and slowed the demon's movements. Pride's voice grunted and light surrounded a mage. "Do you accept the gift that I offer?"

Wynne pulled the Litany free, holding it aloft with her magic and chanted the prayer. The demon's magic sputtered and rebounded, knocking it senseless. Alistair smashed his heavy kite shield into Pride; the demon stumbled but didn't fall and shook off the effects of the spell with a primal roar. Determined to take the demon's attention away from the hapless mages, Lyna peppered Pride's face with arrows. It's skin was thick, plated almost like a dragon's, or at least it made her think of a dragon, but she managed several small little pricks that had the demon turning in her direction. It charged the distance and Wynne's stone fist caught its leg, pulling it backwards and throwing it face first to the ground. The assassin and Templar were on it in a moment, the demon howled when Zevran dug a blade between its shoulders, but pride was not so easily bested and he rose up knocking everyone clear with a powerful wave of force magic.

He turned again to the mages and this time Wynne was not quick enough to stop the forced transformation into an abomination. Wynne and Alistair went at the pride demon, the former Templar guarding the mage and dealing hits against armor-like hide whenever he could. The Abomination turned on Zevran who was closer, slashing down, it was stronger than the last set they had fought and forced the assassin backwards. He threw the possessed mage's arm out wide with his long sword and sliced with the dagger, but its skin was like steal and the blade barely left a bloody trail across its torn robes. He didn't need a glance to tell him there was a wall not more than two steps behind him, Zevran tried to free himself from the frontal assault, but the creature would not have it and he was quickly losing space to maneuver.

The demon rose up for another assault, shuttered and slumped to the ground. Lyna stood on his back her dagger in its back. She dropped down from a ledge just off to the side, having run up almost vertically to reach it and not a moment too soon. They traded a look, Zevran motioning to the pride demon. Lyna grinned, she could do that again; they had a plan.

Lyna handed him her bow and she was just surprised to notice how good he was as he was surprised that the bow she handed him was Antivan. She had taken it off one of the archers during the ambushed Zevran had set up, the assassin snorted at the irony. The Dalish took off in a run as Zevran drew Pride toward him. Lyna ran along a broken ledge, bridging a gap by skipping along the wall, picking up momentum as she went. Zevran had the demon in place at just the right moment and Lyna leaped landing on its shoulder, her dagger digging through thick flesh for a hold, she swung across Pride's back barely dodging a swiping claw for another deep thrust into the demon's opposite shoulder blade.

With a roar the demon shook and bucked twisting to try and reach the fly on its back. Lyna lost her footing, but not her hold on the dagger, gravity and her body dragging the blade deep down the demon's back. He howled in pain, thrashing, but Lyna managed to find her feet. She pulled her dagger free and leaped off Pride's back. Her foot struck stone and Lyna defied gravity by running straight up the wall, back flipping to land back on Pride's shoulder. With a twist her dagger found home in the creature's eye. Massive clawed hands reached blindly for her and she was forced to leave her dagger behind, a blast of magic kept them at bay for the moment the Dalish needed to roll half way down the demon's arm and kick off.

Zevran rushed forward, thinking she had fallen and was colored surprised when she landed in a roll, stopping just at his feet. She reached up and without any more prompting he handed her back her bow. He was a good shot, but she was better, and nearly had blinded the demon's other eye before he turned on them. The demon was sluggish as it approached, bleeding from several wicked wounds.

A sizzling blast from Wynne and a shutter above them was the only warning they got before the massive Chandelier in the harrowing chamber fell with a deafening clang and knocked pride demon to the ground again. Fleet footed Lyna rushed forward; remaining dagger in hand the blade plunged into Pride's skull, between its eyes.

The demon lay still.

Heartbeats passed, breaths from the entire group came out rugged and gasping. Lyna left her daggers were they were, just in case and pulled herself over to where the remaining mages huddled. Irving stood, slowly, Wynne offered him a shoulder to lean on and he gratefully took it.

"Maker I'm too old of this." The old man groaned. "But I cannot be ungrateful for my life. I suppose that's your doing, Wynne?"

"I had help." The senior enchanter admitted with a nod in Lyna's direction.

"The circle owes both of you a debt we may never be able to repay. Come, we must speak with the Templars, before they rally enough to do something drastic." The trip back down the stairs was uneventful; Lyna and her friends had done an excellent job clearing the tower on the way up. They did not find the Templar Cullen were they had left him, but it wasn't long before the group heard him arguing with Greagoir over the fate of the tower.

The Knight-Commander held up a hand to silence him as the group that had only grown when they picked up the children from the outer hall, and Falonel, approached. "Maker's _breath_, Irving?"

By the last floor Irving could walk on his own and despite his age stood rather impressive before the Templars. "It is over Greagoir, Uldred is dead and the circle is safe."

Cullen cut it, throwing a hard look both at the First Enchanter, and the Dalish who stood beside him. "We don't know how many of them have turned to blood magic."

"Yes we do," Lyna scowled. "All the ones that have are already dead."

The younger Templar made a frustrated sound. "You _can't_ know that."

"Enough! I am the Knight-Commander here, not you." Cullen wisely quieted and Lyna made it a point to ignore the man from then on. "I accept Irving's assurance that the tower is safe. I have to admit, you did exactly as you said you would. You've proven yourself a friend to the Circle and the Templars."

"Someone had to be." Lyna replied with a half-smile. It was easy enough after that to gain Irving's assurance that the Circle would be willing and able to fight the coming battle with the darkspawn. Wynne expressed a desire to join Lyna and the Dalish couldn't find a reason, at least not a personal one, why she shouldn't come along.

Dawn was there to greet them when they finally piled into the small boat and crossed Calenhad Lake. Morose, Lyna stared blankly down at the water, troubled by the events of the fade. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure they would have all perished had Zevran not been there. There was nothing the humans could have said that would have convinced her that she was dreaming, Wynne did not know her well enough and Alistair… He may have had a chance, but he had been a Templar. Lyna had nearly put an arrow in his foot before he got a few words out, all Sloth would need to do was tell her they were there to kill the Keeper and Lyna wouldn't have listened to a word they said. If not for Zevran…

She tried not to glance in the assassin's direction and touched her vallaslin with her free hand, the other occupied with holding Falonel back, again, from the water's edge. The mutt didn't know his own limits. _Peace, _she told herself, holding on to regrets was like trying to wish the sun away. It could be done, but nothing good would come of it; Dalish legend told that lesson.

Finally back at _The Spoiled Princess_ they caught the others up on why their trip to the Circle had taken all night and introduce Wynne to them. The Elder mage and the Chasind (Lyna finally learned that was a barbarian tribe of some kind, though the relevance still eluded her) disliked one another instantaneously. She wasn't up to dealing with them, Lyna asked no one to stay and no one to go, and beyond that they could sort out their own problems. The trip into the fade had left her more drained then rested and the fight with Uldred left her sore and bruised. Healing magic did little for bruise, knit bone and stich wounds and yes, repair broken vessels, but putting blood back where it belonged? It was already were it belonged, within the body and little would make it fade faster.

Quietly Lyna snuck out side, wandering down to the lake's edge. She had been right, even in daylight she could not see the other shore, but knew the frost back mountains lay somewhere in that direction. A cold wind blew up from the south, fall was not far and most of the Dalish would be moving north by now. Ferelden, while safer for the clans, it had more wild land then most other places, was far too cold to winter in. By now her clan would have reached the mountain pass and be on to whatever winter grounds they had decided on. Thinking about them made her homesick.

Lyna heard the squeak and groan of the wooden door as someone exited the tavern. The crunch of boots was too heavy to be any of the women, or Zevran. Sten sounded more like a bear then a man when he walked, that only left Alistair. Unless some poor sod thought the bounty on a Grey Warden was worth the risk.

"So, about what happened…" Nope, just Alistair.

"I don't want to talk about it." Alistair sighed, sitting down next to her, his armor clinking loudly in her ears. The group must be deciding to leave; else he would have forgone the armor with no prominent threats around.

"I was _just_ wondering… I really do have a sister, half-sister, who lives in Denerim. I don't think she knows about me, Ea- Um. My mother died giving birth to me, and Eamon took me in. I thought, if we're ever in the area... do you think we can look for her?"

"If that's what you'd like, of course." Lyna's reply came a bit too quick and she chewed on her lip trying not to frown. Maybe Alistair really was looking for an excuse to leave her. She didn't blame him, the last thing Lyna wanted to do was save a country she hardly cared for against an evil that was of human's make for abusing the powers the Elves had given them centuries ago. She had thought there would be one thing, if only one, that held him to this path; Duncan. Yet it seemed like the memory of their mentor wasn't enough to hold him like it held her.

Finally, Lyna sighed. If there was one thing she learned from him in the fade was that he did not understand her like- like _her_ _clan_ had, and she had to voice more of her fears else they would drive them both apart. "I meant what I said… I need your help, Alistair, and not just to give your opinion and walk away. I don't want this anymore then you do, but I can cope. There's just… There's things I _don't_ understand, that I probably never will. I need your word that you'll be beside me though this, you… you can't leave me."

"That was… selfish of me. Your right, I'm sorry. I am here, I'm not leaving." There was a moment of quite between the two as they settled into something closer to the friendship they had been building before Lothering. "That just leaves the question of… Where to now?"

The elf tapped a hand against her knee in thought. "If we don't find the Dalish before fall's end, we might not see them again until summer; the clans tend to leave Ferelden during winter."

"Humm. I guess you'd know best when it came to the Dalish, wouldn't you?" Alistair shrugged, his armor clinking, Lyna rubbed at her ear. "Alright, but afterwards I think we should head to Redcliffe if only because Arl Eamon will best be able to help us with Loghain."

Lyna nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

With a half-smile, Alistair stood up offering a hand to the smaller elf. "Come on, last I checked the others wanted to get moving, can't say I'm too thrilled about it."

"Someone didn't get their beauty sleep? _I_ was the one fighting all those demons, remember?" They both laughed at that, he nudged her side in a playful gesture, she pushed back a bit harder and he replied by nearly knocking her off her feet. Alistair realized his mistake a moment too late and reached out to catch her, but she was nimble and didn't need his help, they both laughed heartily at it.

* * *

Four nights later, somewhere far from the banks of the lake, the tower nothing but a speck in the distance, the companions went about setting up camp. It had been a particularly fruitless day; Lyna for all her knowledge had not found any Dalish clans. While she did find signs of their passing, the clan that crossed had been small, traveled light and would be passed the mountains before her group caught up to them. She could take them south, towards the forest, knowing there was a clan there…

No, not if she could help it. If they didn't find another clan before mid-fall Lyna would suck it up and head to the Brecilian Forest. That gave her about a month or so. The Dalish sighed, was she being selfish? Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud nicker of some animal and the bumbling ramble of a merchant's cart. Falonel barked from his stance at the front of the camp, but suddenly ran, hiding behind Sten who grumbled at him. Lyna couldn't blame the dog when she realized why he'd run.

"Warden!" The dwarf at the reigns called down as he pulled the horse to a stop off to the side of the camp. Lyna wasn't paying attention; she had never _seen_ a horse before, well, at least not up close. This one was a massive thing; Lyna couldn't reach its back if she stood with her arms outstretched and on her toes. It snorted and shook its head when she came closer, and the Dalish took a step back, she wasn't… _afraid _not at all. Dalish hunters were never afraid, but a healthy dose of _caution_ kept one alive. The dwarf laughed, "Epona's alright, Warden, just got a tickle in her nose."

It was then that Lyna recognized the dwarf, after she was able to peel her eyes away from the impressive creatures. "You're the… merchant form Lothering, Bodahn?"

"I am honored that you remembered me. After you saved me and my boy's life that day, I got to thinking. I says, 'Bodahn,' I says, 'with all the darkspawn about, how much safer it would be to travel in the Warden's company? Be damned what the regent says.' Spent the better part of the last few days trying to catch up to you, you and your friends travel fast." As he spoke the small dwarf went about unhitching the horse from the cart, the process involved a step stool, Bodahn being shorter than even she. When the animal was finally unhooked it shook the dust of its coat and wandered away behind the camp to graze.

Lyna cleared her throat, realizing she'd been staring at the horse and not listening to a word Bodahn had said. "Ah- Um. Well, we're happy to have you, if that's what you want. I'm sure some of my companions might be in need of some of your wares."

"Sounds like a good plan, if there's anything you need I'm sure my boy and I can get it for you."

"Enchantment." Sandal clapped his hands, smiling.

Lyna wasn't much for merchants, it was Master Ilen and his apprentice who braved the townsfolk for the supplies the Dalish needed for tools and weapons. Much to her relief it seemed Alistair was standing by his word and took over working out a proper deal with the dwarf. Lyna had little else to do, what with the others having taken charge of the evening meal and wondered away.

The camp was enclosed by a rock face, and thick brush on either side, the animal could only leave the way it came in, and it seemed Bodahn was content to let it do as it pleased. Lyna had _heard_ of horses, of course. Like most things she's been encountering over the last month or so, they were a _shemlen_ thing, and her experience with them was so minimal it was almost in the negatives.

The draft horse didn't pay her any mind as it grazed, flicking its shorn white tipped tail, Lyna watched it for a while, quietly and wondered if their fur felt as soft as the halla's did. She wasn't trying to get up the nerve to touch it; she was just… giving the creature a moment to relax after a long day, yes. The horse didn't seem to care either way.

After a long moment, Lyna gave in and approached the beast. Carefully she reached out to touch the chestnut colored coat, her hands barely brushed the horse's flank when it screeched a horrible sound and kicked out with its back leg. Lyna yelped and fell back in shock. Her back crashed into someone and they both fell to the ground, arms wrapped around her.

He chuckled deep; she could feel the sound in her own chest as his breath brushed against her ear. "Cannot get enough of me, Warden?" Glancing up met her with Zevran's golden eyes and he was smiling that mischievous smile of his. "You needn't go to such extremes to fall into my arms."

"Zev!" Her voice squeaked and _octave_ too high and she cleared it, trying to return it to normal. "I just- umm…" She didn't want to admit that she was so wild born she'd never stood next to a horse, or that she was not slightly frightened by the massive beasts. But he was chuckling again, and she was sure he knew everything she couldn't say.

"Horses do not like quiet. Most get accustomed to elves, but this one has only had the bumbling of dwarves in its life and it did not notice your approach." He pulled her to feet, and arm wrapped tightly around her waist. "You wished to feel it, did you not? Come, try again."

"N-No. That's a-alright. I don't want to try again." Lyna tried to move but Zevran held her tight, her back was pressed against his chest so firmly she could feel each breath he took even though the leather armor.

"You looked a demon in the eye and yet you cannot touch a simple creature? Nonsense." He was laughing at her again, and she grumbled under her breath. "First, you must say hello to the horse. Say it."

"…Hello." Lyna felt a bit like Sandal at the moment.

"And you must keep speaking so that it knows where you are. Horses do not see well behind them, they are not so intelligent as the halla you are accustomed to, they know not when they are safe or not and will kick out in defense under any circumstance." He took her hand in his threading his fingers though hers and held it up. "Now that the horse knows where we are and understand we mean no harm we can attempt to touch it."

Lyna didn't even think to ask how he knew of the halla, their intelligence wasn't something any city-elf would have knowledge about, only the worth of their horns. She was too busy trying to back away from the massive beast before it could kick at her again. "Zev, please, no- I don't- I don't want to try again- please."

The Antivan elf hushed her gently. "Lyna, you'll spook her again with that frightened tone." Lyna wisely stopped, and with it lost her only defense against his persistence. Zevran forced her to take a step closer and then another, all the while mumbling in a soft tone, both to her and to the horse. At some point he stopped speaking in the Trade tongue and slipped into what Lyna could only guess was Antivan. The sound purred past his lips, the sound melodious, unlike the choppy flow of Trade.

She was so focused on his words that she didn't remember the horse until its shoulder was pressed up against the palm of her hand. For the horse's part it only nickered, a deep sound in its throat or nose, but it still made Lyna flinch. Zevran chuckled again, stroking the draft horse's coat with Lyna's hand pinned under his. "She was only saying hello, Warden."

With him guiding her, her hand moved from the shoulder to the horse's chest and up its neck. Lyna was hardly aware of it, Zevran's arm reached all the way around her waist and he rubbed gently at her side with his thumb. She blushed and wasn't quite sure why, there was nothing terribly intimate about it, if only the fact everything Zevran seemed to say and do had something, as Lyna had said in the tower, _flirtatious or mildly offensive_.

Both she and the horse had calmed down during the time and Lyna actually found the feel of the coat under her hand pleasant, if nothing like the downy softness of halla fur. The horse tossed its head and Lyna snatched her hand back with a gasp, despite Zevran's gentle grip on her. "Done! Please? I touched her; it's done, isn't it?"

The assassin hummed by her ear, but relented. "Yes, it is done."

Her first instinct was to whirl away and dash off back towards the fire, but Lyna controlled the feeling and tried not to look too flustered as she turned to the elf. "D-do you think the meal is ready?"

"I expect it is, what with all the squabbling the women are doing." Walking calmly back to the fire was a feat for Lyna, but she managed it even under Zevran's amused stare.

Despite all the differences, they seemed to be getting along, if only for an evening meal. Well, as much as possible. Wynne found out Zevran was an assassin and proceeded to try and have a soul-searching conversation with him, the elf brushing off her attempts with a joke and a laugh that got under Wynne's skin. Lyna shook her head at the two of them, but they kept it civil enough and after a moment she stopped listening. Leliana tried to have a chat with Morrigan about faith, probably the most atheistic person Lyna had ever met.

After a moment they switched, Wynne mentioned Morrigan's mother setting the apostate off, though Lyna was sure a comment on the weather would have had much the same effect. It was about then that Alistair joined them and the one to one conversations turned into a group clamor that Lyna had a hard time keeping up with.

She didn't try too hard. It was a familiar feeling and if she closed her eyes, she could pretend there was a smattering of Elvish in the words spoken over the campfire that the nicker of the draft horse was the grunt and bellow of the halla. For a moment she could pretend she was home. All too soon the meal came to an end and the group began retiring to their tents.

They had decided on a watch order prior, Lyna had not paid attention passed the fact that someone would come wake her several hours before dawn, so to see it was Zevran who had been given first watch surprised her, in a good way. She was thankful someone was willing to put a bit more trust in him, if she had to guess it was Leliana, she was always far more accepting of things, even if Zevran made it a point to poke her about her vision.

They sat quietly by the fire, Lyna not ready for sleep, really she had something to say to him and she was trying to find the words. It seemed the best way was to dive in head first. "I… wanted to thank you."

That mischievous smile crossed his face again and she knew what he'd say almost before he spoke. "You _know_ there are better ways to thank me, Warden."

"I'm serious." Lyna covered half her face with one hand, mumbling into her palm. "If- if you hadn't been there, at the tower…"

She sighed. They would have died. Lyna had seen only the Templar in Alistair; she would have killed him, or at least tired. The more Lyna thought about it, the more she was sure there would have been nothing they could do that would change or mind or stop her. She was a protector of the clan and it was her duty to fight for the defense of the clan, to die defending it. And if it was both Alistiar and Wynne, Lyna wasn't sure if she'd have the skill to win a battle with a seasoned mage let alone with a warrior at her back. If Zevran had not been there…

"I am sure you would have found your own way free." Zevran shrugged, nonchalantly. She couldn't tell if it was because he didn't accept her words, or if he felt his actions amounted to little anyway.

"Not soon enough… Not without... " She sighed again, but let it go. It was much the same in the end, Lyna couldn't force him to accept her gratitude, only be glad that she spoke her mind. He seemed perfectly content to sit in pleasant silence with her, different from the man who joined in every conversation during the meal. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shift, and thought he might have shivered. "Are you cold..?"

Zevran shrugged. "Ah. A bit. Antiva is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden."

"What's it like?" Lyna shifted closer to him, it wasn't as cold with someone to sit beside.

"The only way appreciate it would be to go there yourself." He smiled, and to Lyna it seemed like this one was more genuine then the ones he usually wore. "There is a saying, _A Antiva llueve spesso, pero sono siempre fiori. _In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom. Ah, but it doesn't sound as pleasant in Trade."

Hot, and rainy, Lyna imagined it wasn't like the cold showers of Ferelden, but that even the rain came down warm. The sun must shine all year long, if there were always flowers, or if Zevran's deep tan was anything to go by. "It sounds like a nice place."

"It is! I hale from Antiva City, the capital and home to the royal palace." He sighed wishfully as he stared into the fire. "It is a glittering gem, my Antiva city… do you come from some place comparable?"

"The Dalish don't have cities." She replied softly, she didn't _hale_ form anywhere. She wasn't even entirely sure she was born in _Ferelden_.

"Ah, the wondering life of the Dalish. That truly is better, I'm jealous." A flick of a smile crossed her face at his words. He told her all about Antiva, the smell of sea salt and wine, the beautiful women, _and men,_ the music, Lyna wanted to visit and it was the first time she _willingly_ wanted to go to a city of any kind. The way he spoke of it wrapped her attention and painted a fantasy she was sure wasn't half as good as the real thing, but made her wish to see for herself anyway. He paused in his talk and sighed, again, into the fire. "It is odd… the thing I miss most is the leather."

"The… leather..?" Lyna was a bit suspicious that she missed some kind of analogy there, but Zevran only laughed.

"I mean the smell. The crows store their youngest recruits in small apartments near Antiva's leather making district, packed in like crates. I lived there for years and grew accustomed to the stench. The _humans_ complained about it constantly." She laughed at that, she loved the smell of leather herself; it was something that just fit with the clan and her Dalish life. It had always been around her and she never thought twice of the smell, and even missed it now that she realized it was gone. "To this day the smell of fresh leather reminds me of home, more than anything else."

"The clans make their own leather. When we can manage to say in one place long enough to finish the process." Lyna sighed softly at the memory, it seemed they were both lost in nostalgia that night. "I always liked the smell… it meant that we'd be in once place for a while, that we were safe…"

"Homesick, Warden?"

A flick of a smile crossed Lyna's face, yes, but she wouldn't admit it out loud. "I could ask the same of you, you talk like you've been away from Antiva forever."

"Not so long, no, but it is my first time away. I may never be able to return, and the thought has me thinking of it constantly." The assassin shook his head, his gaze going back to the fire. "I had my eye on a pair of leather boots before I left, but I thought; _Ah, Zevran, get them when you come back as a reward for a job well done._ More the fool was I."

"Antiva will always be there, Zev."

The sweeping tattoo on his face pinched from his charming half-smile. "It is a comforting thought."

Companionable silence fell between them, the dog barked at something in the distance. The wind blew cold and a thought came to Lyna's mind. She jumped up suddenly, and stole into her tent. A moment she returned with a rolled blanket and handed it to Zevran. "It's… halla-fur. We use them in the winter when it's really cold, they're too warm to use any other time of year, but… If you're cold now… I figure you might like to borrow it."

He cocked an eye in her direction, hesitantly taking the bundle offered to him. He ran his hand over the downy soft fur, halla blankets were precious because of the creatures that they came from. "Warden, are you sure?"

"Of course, I told you, it's too warm for me to use it now. I was just using it as a pillow because it… its soft." She coughed and glanced away, not sure if he'd accept it if she told him that it reminded her of the clan. "Anyway, it's yours, if you want it."

"Ah, beauty and compassion in the same woman." She flushed a pretty pink, but let him have his words.

"There's is something else…" When he didn't protest, she went on. "You… you offered to be my sparring partner the other day. I was wondering if the offer still stood. I wanted to take you up on it."

The assassin chuckled at that. "Honestly, with the way you handled your blade at the tower, I doubt you need it. I know a fair few Crow that could not do what you've done."

"It was just a lot of running and jumping." Lyna replied with a modest smile. "Maybe the crows should make their recruits live in the woods a while."

"What with the Dalish?" He chuckled deep in his chest and rubbed his chin in thought, his words coming a bit thicker than they had before. "I'm sure there is a fair bit a _Crow_ could learn from a _Dalish_."

Lyna felt like was missing something, and it showed, but rather than point it out, she pretended his words were as innocent as they sounded. "But… will you?"

"Of course Warden, dawn then?"

* * *

"An inn." Lyna repeated, her expression just a hint away from disgust. "You want to stay in an inn."

They had been on the road for over two tendays at this point with hardly a sign of the Dalish. Lyna's options were dwindling quickly, but she wasn't yet willing to admit defeat. Her companions however, according to Alistair, we tired of mucking around in the dirt and sleeping on rocks. "Oh come on, it isn't that bad, aside from you and Morrigan, we're not use constant traveling, it'd be nice to have some place more comfortable just for one night."

Lyna was not amused by the idea, towns were bad, they didn't particularly like the Dalish folk and the Dalish, in turn didn't like them. She did have to relent a little, aside from herself and Morrigan; the others were a little worse for wear. Even stoic Sten had a curve to his ridged shoulders, though he would never voice his pains. She sighed. Lyna had given up on money, it didn't interest her in the least and she quickly tired of counting all the little pieces. Why couldn't the humans pick larger silver and brown bits and make them worth just as much as the gold ones? Much like with the merchant Alistair took over the group's funds and Lyna was happier for it. "If you have the…" She frowned, drawing a blank on the word. "-Coin for it… then I can't complain. Well, I can, but I won't say no."

Quiet happy, Alistair went to tell the others they would spend the night in the next town they found.

The town they did find was small, smaller then Lothering anyway and was tucked so deep in the Bannorn that it lacked even a proper name, or at least one that Lyna could remember. Morrigan scoffed her disapproval shifted into a bird and flew up onto a tree branch. Lyna was rather jealous, honestly, she much rather spend the night in the woods too.

"You'll be back by morning, won't you?" The bird cawed and fluttered away. "Well, that's a yes I guess."

The inn sat above the tavern and the tavern was called the _Inn of the Last Home, _Lyna guessed that made sense in a way_._It was rather lively considering, many people who were fleeing the lower lands and The Blight had managed to find themselves in the little town. There was too much noise and music for Lyna's liking, too much clanking of glasses and the smell of spilt alcohol was oppressive at best. She didn't like the taste of it either. The whiskey the Dalish made, and there were few clans that were stationary enough _to_ make it, (normally Dalish settled for moonshine, which Lyna didn't appreciate at all) was sweet and made with honey and the alcohol no more than a deceptive tickle on the tongue. Many a young Dalish had fallen victim to the ruse, Lyna included. These drinks didn't suit her, though she did take a sip when Alistair offered, blowing the fumes out her nose with a wrinkle and waved off any offer of more.

The minstrels began a rising tune, the proprietor and his workers cleared a few tables out of the way and many a drinker jumped up to dance. Alistair included. He turned to Lyna offering her a hand.

"Care for a dance?" Lyna tried to wave him off, but he snatched her hand and pulled her to her feet before she could protest properly. "Come on it'll be fun!"

"Alistair- I don't know any dances." Not human ones anyway. He wouldn't hear of it and swung her onto the open floor. The former Templar was a bit rough with her, she was a tiny thing and only her litheness kept her from falling, but she bumped into him harder than she liked.

"May I cut in?" Zevran took her hand before Alistair could even protest, shooting the man with a sly smile. "Of course I can."

Zevran quickly moved away from the other warden before Alistair could steal Lyna back. The assassin was far gentler and they moved together like the sway of a breeze, something far closer to a Dalish dance then the swinging and bumping of humans. "Why did you lie to the Templar? I can see you dance quite well."

Lyna turned away shyly. Dancing was a matter of knowing where to put your feet and timing it to music, not all that different from battle stances. "I… didn't want to make a fool of myself dancing to songs I didn't know."

Zevran chuckled at that. "Ah, well, I am a much better _dancing partner_ am I not?" It took a Lyna a half second too long, but then she realized he meant slightly more than his words and she blushed. "Very endearing, my dear warden."

The song ended and he let her return to the table for their meal. Of all the things, Lyna was thankful that she didn't have to cook a meal. The lamb meat was soft and tender and fell apart in her mouth and the spiced potatoes burned the top of her mouth when she ate them, but tasted amazing. No one seemed to mind that she took as many as she could eat, they were just too good.

The music died away as night wore on and the minstrels had no one to play for. Finally things settled down and the companions began retiring to their rooms. Sharp elven ears caught the sounds of arguments and Lyna sighed, preparing herself to break up whatever was bothering them _this time._ "What are you guys arguing about?"

"I don't want to take a room with Zevran, is that really too much to ask?" Alistair was saying as Wynne crossed her arms over her chest.

"You can't expect one of the girls to room with him, it's just not done."

"Then who would room with Sten? We're kind of three for three here." Dalish cut in then, done with the sounds of their bickering.

"Really? That's what this is about?" Lyna rubbed at her vallaslin, she was sure it would fade with how much attention she seemed to be putting to it lately. "Fine, I'll take a room with him."

"But dear, it isn't proper-"

"You lot are too ridged, _ar atisha'in, him nehn_. Have peace in yourself, you'll be happier for it. Besides, I'm Dalish. I don't care much for what humans think is proper. If there are not enough _aravelen_ and its cold, we sleep together and the only ones who care are the ones sharing the bed." Without another word Lyna grabbed her pack and trotted up the stairs. Zevran was already sitting on a bed when she pushed open the door.

"Warden?" For his part he wasn't even mildly surprised when she walked in.

"Really, they need to grow up. Mm… Maybe just Alistair." She dropped her bag on the spare bed and sighed. "Um- But you'll…"

Zevran chuckled, there was little doubt that he heard the bickering even though closed doors. "Stay in my own bed? It would be difficult with such a beautiful woman sleeping so close, but I am nothing but a gentleman, my dear warden."

"Can't blame a girl for being cautions?" She smiled even as he shrugged. "You… keep calling me beautiful."

Zevran hummed his words, blowing out the lamp by his bed. "I do not make much of a habit of lying, or maybe you wish me to stop? These things you ask, warden, they are so hard on such a simple man."

"N-no. I… kind of like it. I never thought myself as…" She sighed and shook her head, turning out her own light. "Anyway. Good night Zev."

"Good night, Lyna."

* * *

"Arainai." Lyna tried to say the word minus his accent, but every time she tried she could only heard his voice saying it and she could not figure out the proper sound of it, the reason it made her puzzle to begin with. They had been on the road for nearly three tendays now, and she had given up most of her hope that another clan will pass by. They would reach the Brecilian Forest within a few days, Lyna could drag it out no farther.

"You called, Warden?" Zevran eyed her from across the camp fire, she knew she was saying it too loudly, she hadn't meant to get his attention. Lyna sighed.

"It's a woman's name." She said just as soft as she had when she rolled the name over her tongue trying to extract the sound of it. The humans would not hear them but for the hardest of inflections, but elf ears were not just decoration.

"Astute of you, it is the naming traditions of Antiva to give a child their mother's name when their sire is unknown."

Lyna frowned at that. "It's… also Dalish." This she was less sure of, but it sounded very Dalish, or would if not for his Antivan accent inflection on it.

"I guessed that would not escape you for long." He smiled ever faintly to the fire, golden eyes burning almost a brandy color in the light. He stood, and for a moment she thought him ready to leave her, but instead he came and sat next to her so they wouldn't be shouting across the fire. They had been, after all, even if it was hardly above normal tone in human ears. "Well, ask your question then."

Ask what, exactly? She had already put forth her quandary and he was normally so gibe with his words. How had a proud Dalish elf ended up in a city where her son was left to become an assassin and kill at the behest of masters who would end his life for failure? How could proud Dalish blood run in him and let him live the life he does. Lyna however, can't find the words to all those things and finally she looked away from his golden eyes, to the fire. "I just… wondered if you knew… and how."

"I did. My mother fell for an elven woodcutter and left her clan for the city, or so I was told." Lyna's eyes flickered to the camp around them. No one seemed to be around, aside from the faint tinkering of Morrigan and the shuffle of Falonel by the small path that lead out of the campsite. Zevran went on, as if he didn't care either way. "He died of some disease or another and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off the debt he'd acquired, but this is a common tale."

Lyna was shocked, even more so when he said such a thing was _common_. She shook her head mutely in disbelief, unable to wrap her lips around the words she wanted to speak. "Zevran… that's so sad… You never-"

"Knew her? No. She died giving birth to me, you see." Then, so quietly even she almost missed it; "My first kill."

Lyna thought she heard pain in her voice, and couldn't find the words to respond. Zevran was not a man who easily showed how he felt, that much she knew; this alone hurt him greatly to pull even a hint of remorse into his voice. She bit her lip, trying, but he calmly moved on as if it hadn't happened and she gave up, not wanting to linger on it.

"I was raised by the whores until I was about seven. Then I was sold to the crows, I brought a decent price, considering." He shrugged this off in that nonchalant manner he had. Lyna was beginning to think he used that tone when something bothered him, but he didn't want others to know.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

Lyna frowned, more so because he was using that roguish, half-smirked smile on her again. "My dear Warden, your compassion is only rivaled by your beauty, apology accepted, unnecessary, but appreciated. It is not as if there has not been joy in my life, if only because I expected nothing more."

She hadn't expected him to know, really. It wasn't as if it didn't happen, once in a while a Dalish would become disenchanted with wild living, or worse, be forced out of a clan for another reason or crime. Just as the city elves come to them, they too, sometimes go to the cities. Lyna just never expected to it from someone, a personal account of it.

"Silver born*." She mumbled softly, more to herself as he pondered his name, finding the words that seemed to fit it. "Well, sort of. It might be 'I am silver,' … funny 'cause you look more like gold to me." Lyna ventured a peak in his direction, finding his eyes twinkled like she'd given him precious information, or that might have been from her comparing him to gold. "…'Zevran' doesn't hold any meaning that I can fathom; I think it might not be Dalish… or its meaning has yet to be shared with the southern clans, sorry."

He waved off her apology with a shake of his head, but was clearly interested as she spoke. "And yours?"

"Um- well… 'mahariel' is _the rain comes_ and 'lyna' is the word for spring. So… _spring rain_?" He chuckled at that and she felt slightly less foolish for sharing it.

"My mother's Dalish heritage had always fascinated me." He told her, and she realized she _had_ just given him something precious. "I had one thing of hers, a pair of gloves, Dalish made. I was forced to hide them from the Crows for years, but they eventually found them and I never saw them again. We were not allowed possessions of our own. I spent hours staring at those gloves as a boy, constructing fantasies."

Lyna's gloves were Dalish; it was an obvious thought, but something that never occurred to her until just then. It was like she was staring at them for the first time. She never thought there would be significance to them other than being gloves, but they were _Dalish _gloves made by _Dalish _hands. Her own in fact, she wasn't half bad with the leather work and her stitches were always strong and even. She was supposed to help master Ilen with his apprentice when-

Lyna shoved the thought away, taking long a breath, it was far too close; a crack in her armor against her own memories. Zevran pretended, because he never missed anything and that much she was sure of, not to notice.

"There was a time I even ran away to join the Dalish. Needless to say things did not go as I had hoped. Still…" He continued as a distraction, but the topic was too close to what she had been trying to pack away. She was trying not to think about it, trying to push it back away in a dark hole where she wouldn't have to think about it, to look at it. "What of you? Surely your life has not been so idyllic. People like you and I are not the product of happy lives and contentment."

She tried to remain objective, and answer his question, honestly she wanted to keep talking with him and she forced a detachment to her thoughts, looking at them as if she was an outsider, it made it easier to cope. Most of her life had been decent, she'd known nothing else besides the moving of the clan, running any time the _shem_- the humans took offence to the Dalish. He was right now that she saw it from outside, it wasn't idyllic, but it wasn't horrible, it was happy enough. There was joy and love, and if occasionally the clan turned hard and vicious, it wasn't because they wanted to be, but because it was forced on them. "It was enough, not perfect, but enough."

She amazed Alistair before, when she could go from smiling and laughing to that deadly thing the humans knew Dalish to be. That was the life she had to lead until she became a warden, two sides of a coin separate but part of her none the less. She doubted Zevran would have been so shocked, had she been able to flip herself over as she'd done in the past, but it had gotten harder with when she was standing alone and she felt like there wasn't enough to smile about.

If only Lyna had been enough for her own mother.

Her breath hitched in her chest. Not sure where it had come from, Lyna tried to shove the thought so far back in her mind, tied it up and locked it in a box with those hundred other things that she didn't have the proper time to examine and come to terms with, it wouldn't go, wouldn't fit. Zevran was giving her a questioning look, but he did not ask outright.

"My mother." She whispered so low, she couldn't stop the words, but still she wondered if she actually said it at all. "She abandoned me."

"Warden-" He began, but she shook her head.

"Your mother… she loved you. She died _for_ you." Lyna's face was hot, and not for the fire before her. Zevran was struck silent by her words. "Mine… She died despite me. I wasn't _enough_ to keep her living."

She couldn't break. Not here, not in front of these people that looked to her for guidance. Void be damned if she was barely seven and ten, she was supposed to lead these people against the darkspawn and leaders do not break. She would not cry like a child over the things in the past. Not here anyway.

She had enough sense grab her bow before running out into the darkness.

* * *

It was hours later, after she had cried out all her tears, after she had wailed her rage against any offending bark and stone she came across, after she had gotten lost, found her way and then got purposefully lost again, and after she had finally sank below the branches of a weeping willow so that she could lay, utterly exhausted, but safe under its leaves, when the mabari found her. He whimpered softly pushing the reeds aside with his nose and came to lie beside her. His body was a ball of heat and she wrapped her arms around his huge frame, grateful for the company and the warmth.

"Who sent you after me?" She asked the dog, who growled in reply making her chuckle. "Zev? Really? …Remind me to thank him."

The dog gave her a happy, but soft woof and Lyna laid her head across his back. Wynne must have given him a bath again, he smelt of her soaps and herbs. The mabari accepted her hug with grace, and Lyna sighed feeling better for her private breakdown. Her eyes caught sight of her Dalish gloves and a thought came to her. "Actually, I think I have just the way."

Falonel's stump of a tail wagged happily, and she stood up. "Come on, it's probably about time for my watch, and we'll be in the forest by tomorrow. Hopefully we'll see someone from Rheaeni Clan before the night is out." The dogs barked happily and they returned to camp together.

* * *

Ar atisha'in, him nehn;_ I (have) peace within, (it) becomes joy._

_*The welsh word for silver is _arian_, considering a lot of Dalish accents are Welsh or Irish, it doesn't take much corrupting to arrive at that conclusion for _Arainai_. I however, have no basis for _LynaMahariel_ other then that's what I feel like it should mean. Can't win them all. :) _

_Yes, the horse has the same name as the one in LoZ, I couldn't resist. I also couldn't resist a dragonlance reference; I did mention my love for it, did I not? I wonder if those potatoes are half as good as I imagine they are. :) I started this chapter thinking it was going to be short, at lease compared to the last, and now it's longer by far. Not too long right? We're all here because we _like_ reading right?_


	9. Chapter 9

_I love all you silent watchers, but I wish you'd come say hi to me from time to time. I'll make cookies? :)_

_Forgot to mention last chapter, Rheaeni is a made up word for Zathrian clan. From my understanding most clans had a name, and I couldn't understand why one of Zathrian's size didn't have one too. Ah well, it doesn't mean anything, just looks and sounds pretty._

* * *

Werewolves.

The whole group heard the howls, and Lyna had about half a moment to process the thought that it didn't quite sound like wolves before the beasts fell on them with abandoned. Massive things, the werewolves were, standing even taller than Sten; their bodies stretched into the proportions of men, but lacked the grace of the creatures they resembled. Instead they were gangly. Their arms were too long, legs twisted to stand on toes; they lacked the balancing tails and moved like men while running on all fours, throwing limbs out into extremes to compensate. Their faces were twisted with lips pulled away from teeth in permanent snarls.

Lyna had heard of them, sure. Legends of curses brought on by magic usually cast by wicked magisters or an angered god, but they were things of fantasy, impossibilities, not something that would ever exist in the real world. Or so Lyna believed right up until the moment when she was dodging snapping teeth and lethal claws.

The wolves overwhelmed them, more than enough to flank Lyna's band and then some. They may be werewolves, but Lyna had a Qunari at her back and the man was like a battering ram, slamming into the creatures with the huge two handed sword given to him. Yelps and squeals of pain come from his direction; she would never be ungrateful for freeing him of that cage all those weeks ago, but she couldn't pause to take stalk of how the rest were doing. Lyna whirled on a wolf before her, whacking his clawed hands away and slicing deep into the beast's chest. Zevran's training was paying off, even if it did usually end with her pinned in some way and blushing madly because she _knew_ he was thinking something less than innocent as he whispered in her ears how she'd gone wrong.

A wolf bowled into her, and they both rolled to the ground. She kicked out, her knee smashing into its breastbone with a satisfying crack. With a twist and a roll to the side, Lyna slid a dagger into the wolf's back and it didn't rise again, but three more of the pack mates were on her an instant later. They snarled and shaped at her, foam bubbling from their lips, feral.

One thing she'd learned from the stories, and one she was quite willing to believe, was that a bite would turn another into one of them. Lyna was _not _curious about walking as a wolf, and even if she was, she'd have asked Morrigan. Dagger twisted in hand coming up under the chin of a wolf whose teeth came far too close to her face while she was beating off another. The beast fell to the side and stole the blade from her grasp but lay quite dead. Lyna went for her bow to even out her hands, another of Zevran's tricks he'd passed on to her. Held along his forearm the bow wood flicked out like a striking snake against jaws and swiping claws.

She spun with each motion bringing her blade in at random to keep the wolves of guard. The Dalish however, was not as practiced and the wolves had her giving ground fairly quickly. The river's presence was a roar in her ears, and the waterfall a constant nagging feeling in the back of her mind. They were herding her, she realized with each step snapping jaws forced her to take. They couldn't get in for a bite, and they tired, but she'd given them more than a fair few slaps to make them consider pushing her off the cliff might be a better idea.

A wolf came over the rise above them staring down at the battle with a grin, if wolves could grin. It, he rose up to his hind legs and howled. "Leave the humans alive, brothers and sisters!" He cried with a bark. "If the Dalish cannot be used for our means than she must not return to the clan!"

The wolves howled in unison. Lyna was stunned enough to mutter, "It _talks?_" and wonder _why_ _her, _before a heavy body slammed into her arm, nearly knocking her bow from her grasp and left her balancing on her toes with nothing but sky at her back. Blade caught the beast in neck, Lyna pulled, the beast tumbled over the edge and she too almost went with it. Zevran was at her side in breath, forgoing a blade for just an instant to take her hand and pull her back to solid ground. They stood back to back with the precipice at their side as the werewolves snarled, drool dripping. The others were no help, so swarmed with the pack of werewolves, and they all had gotten wise; no werewolf stood long enough in front of arching steel or magical blasts to take serious damage. All the while they were pushed farther and farther away from the two elves.

The werewolf on the ridge grunted his annoyance at the elves and dropped from his perch. He towered over the elves, even over the other lycanthropes gathered. Dagger length talons came down and not even Zevran's quick skills could save him from the savage gash that opened across his armor and down his chest. He stumbled, just a moment and Lyna turned to defend, to give Zevran the moment he needed to recover, and the alpha wolf backhanded her across the face with a crack like thunder. She slumped. Limp like a puppet with no strings. She pitched from the force of the blow and fell.

Zevran grabbed her hand, but he could not stop her.

They fell together.

* * *

Lyna couldn't breathe.

She pulled her head from the water, floundered uselessly against the current. It whisked her away and it was all she could do to keep her head above the froth, to keep from being dragged under. Coughing and spitting, Lyna found she could touch the bottom of the river and scrambled to her feet. Somehow, she had still clung to her bow, but it was a useless thing now, the wood cracked in two and held together only by the string tied to both ends. The Dalish sighed and flung it towards the shore, she liked that bow.

A touch and a cough of his own, and she remembered Zevran had tumbled with her. Lyna's vision was quickly turning red and she touched her right eye, it was swollen shut and came away bloody. There was nothing for it, she splashed water on her face to clean it out and left it be. Zevran was not too far they both staggered out of the water and under the thick branches of a tree.

His leathers were torn across his chest and blood quickly – much too quickly - mixed with the water and ran down to stain the armor. Without a thought she pulled at the buckles and freed him of it. The tunic below was shredded beyond help and stained almost completely with blood, despite the water. Three cuts crossed the left side of his chest from shoulder to hip, the two on the edge were not so deep or so long, but the middle was deeper than her finger where it wasn't blocked by the bone of his ribs and covered her hands in blood within moments. Half of her couldn't help but notice that the marks just barely missed a sweeping tattoo that mirrored the one on his face and disappeared below his waist.

"Like what you see?" He winced and her smile was cut short. Lyna bit at the fingers of her gloves with her teeth, yanking them off. She hesitated for a moment, but if she didn't, he'd bleed out. There was no time to find a healer, no way the two of them would make it back to the Wynne and the others before he passed out from blood loss, and if that happened she wouldn't have the strength the carry him. No choice, she put her focus to the jaw-trap that was her connection to the fade and forced it open.

Healing magic sparked to life in her hands, setting them aglow.

"Warden- Magic?" Zevran couldn't help but be taken back as her hands drifted over the open wound on that ran down his chest.

"Shh-" She hissed both at him and from the spark of pain that stung her fingers as she forced the healing spell. His wound didn't close completely, but the bleeding slowed enough, and even the assassin had to admit he felt less dizzy from blood loss. Of course, Lyna seemed to have taken his symptoms on herself; her skin was pale and she seemed to sway even as she sat by his side. "Not going to bleed out, least not soon, but not sure if you'll make it back to the others."

Lyna closed her eyes fighting off what seemed to be a wave of exhaustion. "Stitch it." Zevran replied motioning to her broken bow. She frowned at the thought, but relented. She pulled a sprig of elfroot from her pack, how it had not gotten lost with their ride down the river, she could only thank the gods and shoved the leaves in her mouth to chew on, releasing the oils. In the mean time she snatched up her shattered bow, freeing the string and slicing off the loops with a dagger. The thread however was too large and so she set about carefully splitting it against the edge of her knife.

"S'waxed." She mumbled her tongue going numb from the plant. "S'wont hurt as much. But I'ven' done this 'fore, s'don't think it'll mean much." A sizeable splinter of wood was used as a needle, rubbed against leathers for a moment to smooth the rough edge and an arrow head provided a hole in one end for the twine.

"It'll be fine," He replied, but she pressed the elfroot to the wound anyway, it numbing the pain but it also cleaned the wound as much as was possible. It was another reason why the Dalish valued magic so highly, without it the clans wouldn't survive long. There are far too many wild things and even Lyna cannot count how many times she's been injured enough that the keeper had to heal her. It was one of the many prices for their freedom. Zevran stared as she worked, her hands moving with grace even if she stopped one or twice as if she'd forgotten what exactly she was doing.

She owed him an explanation, and talking would help her keep her focus. She bit her lip, unsure how to being. "…They say that in the days of _Arlathan _all elves had magic, and it was contact with humans that stole it and our immortality, did you know this?" Lyna mumbled softly as she worked, trying to keep focused.

"I have heard."

"There isn't a Dalish child, at least one in my clan, that doesn't have some shred of magic." More elfroot, she was surprised that he never once flinched in pain. Didn't she already think that thought? She shook her head, unsure and tried to keep working.

He didn't respond for a moment and she swayed, just slightly. Zevran realized his part in this. "Is that not dangerous? We are told that any mage can be possessed by a demon."

"The chantry, right? I've never been bothered by one. So I have to wonder…" She stopped to turn her un-gloved hands over, frowning at the burn marks across her index and thumb, the backlash when her connection had snapped shut. "The problem for us is how strong our connection to the beyond when we are awake is. I can only reach it if I force a connection, and the effort takes a great deal out of me. I'd have never turned to it naturally, not if the keeper didn't cox it out of every _da'len _when we are young."

"You cannot heal that?" He motions to the wicked damage done around her eye, and she shakes her head.

"Turning a healing spell on myself is beyond me, there's too many pushes and pulls. At best nothing happens, at worst..." She trails off.

"It felt like sunlight." Lyna met his eyes and she realized he was talking about her magic. All magic had a feel. Marathari's felt like a gentle wind, Wynne's felt like a splash of water, Lyna blushed faintly, returning to work. The few times Morrigan used her magic for healing instead of harm, it reminded Lyna of rich soil, not terribly rough but it stuck to one's hands from the moisture and didn't fade easily. There was only an inch or so left rendered flesh, but Lyna was losing her concentration far too quickly. "Does the Chantry know of the Dalish and their magic?"

"I wouldn't think they didn't. They know our keepers are mages, at the very least; it is why we travel so much, staying in one place invites slaughter. There is… no circle for the Dalish." Finally the wound was shut and she leaned back against the bark of the tree, glad for the chance to rest her eyes.

"That… _does_ explain your reactions at the tower." It didn't help that she was quick to anger, a little more stress then she was completely able to tolerate, but Lyna wouldn't mention that out loud. There was silence between them, Lyna thought she might have dozed off a moment, it was hard to tell.

"… I am telling you a lot of secrets," Lyna mumbled softly, too exhausted by the magic use to bother with opening her eyes or making sure her words came out properly.

"Putting a lot of trust in an assassin, are you not?" Lyna could still frown.

"No, I put my trust in _you_. You're deserving of it, Zev."

"I did say I would serve until you released me."

Lyna scoffed at that, but her eyes still stayed closed. "As if I ever held you to that. You could have left in the middle of the night those first few days and I wouldn't have been surprised. Maybe a bit disappointed, but unless you came back to finish the job I would have been happy knowing I gave someone a second chance."

"That is… kind of you to say." He mumbled at length.

"For what it's worth, I'm happy you didn't, that you're here."

"Warden?" Her eyes flicked to find him hovering over her, sun glittered on his still-wet skin. Zevran touched a hand to her cheek and his lips met hers. He tasted of spices Lyna couldn't name, but they were hot on her tongue. When Lyna didn't protest Zevran's other arm wound around her waist, pulling her towards him. His hands were warm, hot like the rays of the sun; everything about him was warm, hot and shined like gold. She didn't know what to do with her hands at first, and then hesitantly touched his shoulder, ran his hands up into his wet hair and back down his sides. Prompted by her explorations his hand slipped under the hem of her armor and tunic, her skin was cold, she thought, it must be for his warmth to burn her so and send waves of heat across her body.

Lyna's hands avoided his back, knew the scars were there, but they trailed over his chest and reminded her of the still open wound.

"Zev-" She was breathless, he stole her words with another spicy kiss. Her heart pounded in her chest, half of her mind wondering what she thought she was doing, the other worried about _him. _"Zev, you'll hurt yourself-"

"More's the pity." He mumbled, but relented. The air was shockingly cold without him so close, she knew her face was red as an apple, and she couldn't find it in her to look him in the eyes. They both struggled, Lyna more so and more willing to show he effort, to their feet. Zevran's wound pained him enough that he pressed a hand to the makeshift wrapping as they walked. She felt herself fading in and out, black edged tinting her vision, but if she stopped she would sleep and she couldn't leave Zevran like that. "It seems dangerous. Why would your Keepers see fit to spread magic to all the Dalish?"

"Oh… that's easy," Lyna said her words coming slower than they should, "Elvish is written with magic, you can't read it without some understanding of it, of power no matter how small."

He seemed dumbfounded, or at least what she could fathom from her skewed perception. This was more then she should share, but it was something to focus on and she had meant what she said; he deserved her trust. "The spoken words used to carry magic too; every word was a truth and a spell. The ancient elves named the humans quick-children because they seemed so young and sped through life in earnest and suddenly… they too become quick children, the spell was cast even if not by intent. The humans came to us with no magic of their own, they learned from us, called themselves mages… as if there is a… difference between those who could… and those who could not… and another spell… was cast."

Distantly she was aware of just how much magic she had used to heal Zevran, with no practice, pouring so much energy into the wound had drained her and the lack of magic, no matter how faint, was something her body was not used to experiencing.

She was in a daze when, like sprites they seemed to step out of the shade of the trees and was dimly aware that they were Dalish, if only because something that sounded like Zevran's voice told her so. Another voice called her _cousin_ and she thought the concerned look on the woman's face funny, her only cousin hated her.

It was too hard to keep track of what was going on after that, so Lyna just closed her eyes.

* * *

The birds woke her up. There was a campfire nearby, the crackle and hum of the fire was comforting in her ears. She could smell the elfroot and other herbs; they clung to the healing tents no matter… how long… they were aired out.

Had it been a dream?

She didn't want to move. Afraid that any disturbance would break the spell her mind had fallen under. No, things were too crisp to be a dream; images and conversations too vivid. Aches and pains that had only come from the constant fighting on the road. For a moment she wondered if she was in the illusions of another demon, but again no, this time it really was too good to be true.

It was a nice dream, while it lasted anyway.

"Warden," someone said, the cot she lay on dipping under his weight. "As beautiful as you look asleep, I imagine your presence will be required to settle this disturbance."

Lyna groaned softly, struggling to even open her eyes let alone sit up. Somehow, and this was rather usual for her, she managed the latter before the former to a deep laugh from Zevran. She could hear the argument, even from the opposite side of camp; the tones had hit a crescendo. Lyna jumped up in an instant, her hand went for her weapons, but only one dagger responded to her hand. None of this clan would know where she kept them as she slept, but how Zevran knew… Well, he didn't miss much, now did he? The Dalish glanced his way, with a thank you on her lips.

He had kissed her at the riverside.

Her face instantly colored pink, and the words were lost in her embarrassment. Creators, why did he have to give her that roguish smirk now, he knew what she was thinking. Zevran made no secret of his promiscuity, and Lyna knew where she stood next to the likes of Morrigan and Leliana. She bit her lip. It wouldn't have surprised her if the only reason he had cast his eyes in her direction was simply because the other women in the group had shot him down. Lyna was just too willing to listen to him praises her, no one had ever done so before and she couldn't help but take pleasure in it.

Not even-

The thought made her feel like a child. Even if it was empty, even if he only wanted one thing from her, she wanted to hear it. Lyna sighed. She would want more, or course, but that would be as far as Zevran would want it. His way made sense; either of them could die tomorrow, or even today. By the void, they should have died just that morning, how either of them survived a plummet down a cliff and into a river was pure luck. Lyna was beginning to suspect that Zevran was the embodiment of it; luck. Should she really go on, hoping for something that might never come, or take what came to her and be happy that life saw fit to give her that much.

She couldn't see ahead, but the days before her looked grim, and every moment she pulled herself from her sleep she was thankful to have made it to another dawn. Any chance of real joy had been taken from her the moment…

The moment she and Tamlen had stepped into that cave.

Any chance of a future, she had thrown that away herself when she'd drunk of darkspawn blood and joined the Wardens and their cause. She was bound to their duty, committed to their cause, until the Archdemon was dead, or she was, there was little else that could exist in her life. Did she want to die without…

The human's, Alistair's, voice hit too loud when compared to the softer spoken elves. No time for this, she darted off leaving Zevran behind.

She was still tired and breathless by the time she reached the opposite side of the camp. One of the Dalish guardians' had her bow poised at the humans, one dog and one Qunari that clustered the border.

"What business could we Dalish possibly have with a group like yours?" She was saying, her voice hard. Lyna was between them, pushing the golden haired elf's bow out of harm's way; even as she turned to make sure her people were unharmed.

"They're with me, Mithra," Lyna breathed. She hadn't seen her cousin for years, but Lyna knew the instant that the taller, bronze skinned and golden haired elf was her. Mithra was always pretty, even when Lyna had last seen her. The mark of Mythal graced her cousin's face as well as her own, though Mithra had taken the marks farther under her eyes and down her chin. Lyna didn't stand quite as tall as the female elf. But she did her best, even though her cousin's mere presence made her want to run and hide in the forest until the she could leave again. Creators, what was she going to do if she had to speak with her uncle? "Please, cousin, let them through to speak with the keeper."

The guardian gave a snort in the direction of the humans.

"Fine," She said at length. "But our camp is not a store for your perusal, shemlen. Speak your peace with the keeper and be on your way. We have our own troubles without adding you to them."

The hunters gathered made way for the group of humans. Falonel barked happily running up to Lyna, his front legs bent and his rump in the air. The mabari barked again, and then darted into the camp circling around Zevran who finally saw fit to join them. It seemed the war hound had taking a liking to the assassin; Lyna had thought they were a one-master kind of breed, or maybe he was just thanking Zevran, the dog was smart like that. She was glad to notice, as Zevran pulled a new tunic over his head, that he only had a thin line of white scars from the wolf attack.

"Andraste's grace, you're alright," Wynne breathed from behind her. The woman was giving the two of them a cursory inspection, earning a smile from Lyna for her motherly affection. "And you Zevran?"

"Ah, I dare say the Dalish's talents could give you a run for your worth, my dear Wynne, but yours is still a bosom without compare." The elf grinned, as the elder mage scoffed.

"And to think for a moment I was worried about you," Wynne grumbled under her breath. She meant for it to be a quite thing, but Zevran laughed anyway.

"Terrible, I know." The elf shrugged his shoulders. "Warden, it seems my armor is beyond repair."

"Try talking to Master Varathorn," Lyna replied, motioning in the general direction of the _aravel_ decorated by a carving that somewhat resembled an old man with horns. She couldn't meet his eyes, too many thoughts rolling in her head and she needed to concentrate. The Keeper of this clan Zathrian was a bigot, his view on humans being one of the more extreme of the clans that wandered Ferelden during the year. It was why Lyna wished to avoid this particular clan, though she knew they would have been easiest to find, among other reasons. She couldn't face him with half her mind somewhere else.

Zevran was smirking, catching on to her reaction, but let it be and followed her lack luster directions. Falonel followed him, maybe the hound caught on that this conversation wouldn't be pleasant, or maybe he remembered Lyna telling him how the Dalish appreciated dogs and wanted to see more of the camp. That must be it; the glutton was looking for handouts. Lyna caught a few words from the elf, directed at the mabari before he was too far for her to hear. "We have dogs in Antiva you know…"

"Keeper Zathrian," Lyna greeted when her large group in toe. The keeper took one look at the group and scowled.

"Lyna…" He muttered, tilting his head up so he could look down his nose at her. She was surprised he remembered her; it had been almost ten years sense he'd seen her last. Lyna would never forget him; in fact she could almost say she hated this elf. "I'm shocked to see you here; I thought Marathari already took your clan north."

She nodded, tensely. "She did Keeper Zathrian; I've joined the Grey Wardens."

"Maker," Alistair mumbled. "I can barely hear a word you too are saying, and I'm standing right here. For the sake of the rest of us, would you mind talking a bit louder? Please?"

He was trying to break the heaviness that had fallen between the two elves, Lyna knew. It wasn't a good time, Lyna knew that as well, but it didn't stop her from having to fight off a smile. "I've told you before elves hear better, now do you believe me when I say your snoring wakes me up from across camp?"

The keeper glowered. His lip almost visibly twitching at the friendly tone she took with him. "_Ma dirth Elvhenlin'in? Ma dirth shemlen dar'falon. Felas da'asha._"

"Do _not_ speak just so that they won't understand," Lyna snapped back. It had taken her a long time, but she finally had accepted these people as her friends. For a second she was grateful to Zathrian, she hadn't realized that fact until the moment when he tried to belittle them in front of her. "They _are_ my friends, and I treat them as such, as if that is _any _concern of yours. We are here to ask for aid of the Dalish, in accordance with the treaties we… t-they… have signed."

A smug look crossed the bald elf's face, and Lyna had to fight a sneer back. It had been a miss step of words, Lyna had come as a Grey Warden, not a Dalish, and the disconnection stumbled on her lips. Zathrian, however, took it as admittance that she did not hold to her Dalish blood. It burned Lyna that he could use her words against her. It burned her more that _she_ had misspoke in front of the most xenophobic keeper Lyna had personally met.

"Yes, yes, I forget how much Mahariel and Marathari preached _acceptance _and _tolerance," _The keeper replied, off handed. He had his victory and seemed to be a bit more amicable to speaking openly. Lyna would take it; a wounded pride was nothing if it led to the greater good. "I remember the treaty we sighed with the Grey Wardens, but we are in little position to honor our agreement anyway."

They were lead back to the healing tents, and Lyna was ashamed to not have noticed how many of the clan occupied the cots. They were flushed, sweating from fever, some slept fitfully, and others fought groans of pain, curled on themselves for the smallest shred of relief.

"There have always been werewolves in these forests, and we have put down the beasts when they come." The keeper explained. For all the things Zathrian was, the suffering brought onto his clan stung him deeply. A Dalish female twisted in her sleep, her face twisted in agony. The keeper's magic washed over her and her she calmed, returning to something closer to peaceful. "This time however, the beasts have gotten wise. They've attacked every hunting party that has entered the forest, and been infecting the clan with their curse."

"They attacked us too, one of them spoke," Lyna replied quietly. It was chilling, werewolves were supposed to be mindless, the fact that one was capable of speech meant… She wasn't sure what it meant, really.

The keeper snorted his disdain. "They are mindless beast, and they need to be whipped out. If you go into the forest, Lyna, and find the source of the curse; a white wolf called Witherfang, kill him and bring me his heart. I can cure the clan of the curse."

"Is this the only way? If they can speak, then maybe they can be reasoned with; there must be some cause for them to attack like this."

"They are beasts trying to take the form of men, there is no reason to try and _reason _with them, _da'asha_. All that is required is that Witherfang is killed and every wolf is put down so the curse cannot be spread again."

"Ma nuvenin,keeper," Lyna was sure there was a better, way, but Keeper Zatherian would not be the one to speak of it with. She would try to speak to his first, Lanaya, and if that didn't work, she'd try the wolves. "We will leave at the dawn."

It was late by the time she finished speaking with the Keeper, the sun barely cresting the tops of the trees, and the Dalish had begrudgingly allowed the warden group to stay within their camp when Alistair sat next to her on the logs that bordered the fire. "So, about what happened…"

"Oh not this again," Lyna mumbled, she had lost her dagger and her bow in the earlier fight with the wolves and by the dread wolf, she wouldn't dare go out into the forest without her weapons. Master Varathorn was more than gracious, actually lending her and Zevran equipment with the promise that Lyna would bring back ironbark if they found any while in the forest. Of course Lyna agreed in an instant, knowing how valuable ironbark was to the clan. She sighed, sharpening her new dagger critically, it wasn't a cheaply made thing, Master Varathorn had given her a well-made blade and she suspected Zevran armor was just as good.

Varathorn remembered her father, his words had brought a sad smile to her face and memories of her clan that being Clan _Rheaeni _made painful. "What are you asking, _Lethallin_?"

Alistair seemed taken aback by the endearment, but she already had to share its meaning with him, it only took a moment for him to recall it. "Well, you called the elf at the border cousin, and it was kind of obvious that you and the keeper didn't see eye to eye…"

"It's a long story," Lyna said with a sigh. "Mithra is my cousin, her father Athras is my mother's brother… they…" She sighed again. "He didn't approve of my mother running off with my father. At the last _Arlathvhen,_ a gathering of the Dalish clans, I met them and Keeper Zathrian. Things… didn't go well."

"You know," Alistair rolled his shoulders back, casting his eyes over his shoulder. "I bet the Dalish have a fine selection of cheeses."

"We don't have cheese, Alistair."

"Maker's breath, how do you people live?" The other Warden's attempt at making her smile was childish, but it worked. "Alright, alright. You lived with a different clan, why?"

Lyna was silent for a moment. It so close it hurt, talking about her parents constantly led to thoughts of her mother's abandonment. She was still bitter, still angry, still wounded by the thought that she wasn't good enough for her mother. Her eyes flicked in Zevran's direction, he sat on the next log over, it was strange not having him next to her, but it was probably for the better. "Marathari thought that maybe my uncle would want to take me in, she didn't know that he any my mother were estranged. Obviously that didn't work, so Marathari wanted Ashalle to pose as my family… We don't talk about the dead, much, it's better to let their spirits rest then drag up memories that would only lead to more sorrow. Zathrian broke that illusion before it even began; he was the one that told me my mother and father were dead, but the keeper stopped him before he could say more."

If not for him, Maybe Lyna could have gone on thinking Ashalle was her mother, and she would never have to question if she had been loved. Ashalle had done her best with her, but Lyna was always left feeling lonely watching the other children with their parents and knowing hers were no more, and never knowing why. "I think I just would have been happier _not_ knowing."

"_Abelas_, Lyna. _Ar dirth'in_?"

The man speaking was Athras, her mother's brother. Lyna hadn't a clue why the man would wish to speak to her; he made it quite clear to Marathari that she wasn't wanted. The Dalish Warden eyed him wearily. She didn't want to be here any longer then she had to, she didn't need him to shoo her along any faster. "Speak Uncle, but so that my friends understand you."

"_Abelas_, I am sorry for the way we treated you, _Dal'en_. I was angry with your mother and I took it out on you." The elf sighed knowing his words fell on deaf ears. "I… need to ask you a favor."

Lyna bit her lip, trying not to spit out all the angry retorts that came to mind. "Go on uncle."

The man turn his gaze to those gathered around the fire, unsure of how he felt of the humans. He seemed to realize he would get nowhere if he spoke against them, and instead ignored their presence. "It is your aunt, Danyla. She was in one of the hunting parties attacked by the wolves. Keeper Zathrian says she is dead, but he won't let me see her. I… I can't trust his word, not in this."

"You want me to look for her."

The man was crestfallen, broken by the loss of his bonded and unable to search for her by decree of the Keeper. There was no one else he could ask for help. "The keeper will not let any more of the clan wander the forest; we have lost too many hunters to the wolves and the curse already. I just… I just need to know."

"_Atisha, _uncle. If she is out there, I will do my best to find her."

* * *

The dawn came too soon and the sun soon found them wondering almost aimlessly across the vast expanse of forest. They had decided splitting up wasn't an option and the whole of them trumped through the woods like an army. Lyna had to smile. None of her group save the dog liked the hike and it showed, yet she herself never felt more alive than she did here. She would miss it when they left, and it would be the only thing.

Their trudge disturbed a bear, but the beast was put down faster than most of her companions could pull their weapons, arrows lodged in the vital points of its neck.

"Give me a bear any day." She said with a laugh, and she didn't miss the sly smile that crossed Zevran's face. Lyna hadn't lied when she said she was used to fighting bears and wolves, why did everyone seem to doubt the Dalish? They were ambushed by a pack of feral werewolves, they didn't show the same tactics that the pack form the day before had, and none of them spoke. Instead it was as Lyna would have expected werewolves to fight, all teeth and claws and snarls. Her party was too large for the wolves to do any real harm.

Lyna really needed to take Sten with her more often.

They were far to the east by the time the sun sat overhead. A fog crept in, covering the ground at their feet so thick that Lyna could scoop it up in her hands. It boiled down from the hillside, from between an archway that could only be described as foreboding.

So of course, that seemed like the likely direction to go. "What do you say, that way?" She asked surprised to find it was Zevran that came to stand beside her. He was probably the least happy about crushing though the forest; even muttering that this was the reason he hadn't lasted long with the Dalish.

The assassin frowned crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know it seems to me we would be asking for trouble going that way."

"Being this deep in the forest is asking for trouble; the whole place is haunted, the veil is thin here, or did you not notice the angry trees?"

Zevran gave her a skeptical look, a brow raised in her direction. "I noticed that you seemed quite capable of taking them down on your own."

"I _might_ have spent a lot of time near this forest," Lyna shrugged with a sheepish smile and tried not to blush. With little way else to go, she pushed ahead. The fog rose up so thick she couldn't see her hand before her nose, much less her companions beside her. She felt like she was swimming, droplets clung to her armor and soaked her to the bone. Her hands groped for the walls, anything to steady her progress and tell her she was actually moving. Suddenly the fog lifted, or rather dropped back down to the ground and she found herself standing back where they began. Soon enough each of her group stumbled their way out.

Falonel turned and growled menacingly at the path they had taken before charging back in. Within a few minutes the fog spat him out again on the same side and Lyna had to grab his warn braided collar before he tried again. "It's no use; we'll never get through that way."

The dog huffed his disappointment, but she patted him on the head. "Don't worry, we'll find away. We're pretty lucky that way."

A quick measure of the sun told her they had just enough time to reach the Dalish camp before night fell. "Come on, let's go back. It's not safe to camp this far east, werewolves or not."

The group nodded their agreement.

It was near sunset, the camp not far when Falonel barked in urgency and ran off before Lyna could get ahold of him. Without thinking, she took off after the war hound, and found him on a small cliff, overlooking a copse of trees. The mabari stood over an unconscious and wounded Dalish. Lyna didn't recognize him, but then, she only knew a few of the clan by name. She called to Alistair from down from the ridge and he helped the wounded elf up. Wynne could do little for him, but after a little bit of healing magic he managed to gain some consciousness.

After that the going was slow, and night fell well before they reached camp. Mithra was waiting at the border and cried in joy when she noticed the Dalish elf they brought with them. Deygan smiled painfully as she hugged him and was helped by another hunter to the healing tents. Lyna thought there was something between them, but she didn't say anything. Deygan's golden eyes reminded her of someone.

Lyna sat before the fire, unable to sleep. She had to tell Athras she saw no sign of his wife in the forest, and the heartbroken look on his face and cut her deeply in return. She promised to try again, and her uncle thanked her for the effort and wondered off, dejected. It was a far cry from the man who she only remembered looking at her with disdain so many years ago.

There was another reason she couldn't sleep.

She held them tight in her hands waiting for the others to retire before she gave them to him. It didn't take long; they were all excused from the day long hike through the woods. Even he was turning in, but she caught his eye and he lingered.

"H-Here." She stuttered, handing him her gift.

He frowned at the sight, holding them curiously in hand. "Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?"

Lyna cleared her throat, turning away in embarrassment. "…They're Dalish… I know they're not just like your mother's-"

"Maker's breath… they are like my mother's." He ran his hand over the soft hide; the insides were lined with rabbit fur to keep the bite out, taking note of every detail. "These… were _your_ gloves."

Lyna blushed pink. "Yes, I had to add some leather to make them fit your hands. I _hope_ they fit. I can always fix them if they don't, but it wouldn't be too hard. I figured you'd want to use them, and it's getting cold so…"

His hand touched her cheek, forcing her to look at him, and he cut her nervous ramble off with a gentle kiss that turned her face a few shades redder. He had slipped the gloves on, and to her delight they seemed to fit well. "No one has ever… simply given me a gift before. Thank you, Lyna."

No one? That stung her heart just a bit.

"I- I'm glad you like them." His lips locked her in a second kiss, pulling her flush against his body. She was free of her thick leather armors; there was little need of it in a camp so large, not when someone else was taking care of the night guard. She was lost for a long moment his hands slipping under the soft woven tunic that covered her to touch her skin and set it alight again. Tantalizing his fingers brushed the edge of her waist band and her mind snapped back to reality. "Ze-"

He sighed, having seen it coming. "Too many ears, I take it?" Zevran chuckled against the curve of her neck, leaving one last kiss on her skin. "Some other time then, perhaps."

He left her standing there, freezing with his absence. She stumbled into her tent, huddling under the cover of her bed roll, and wished silently for the halla blanket she'd given Zevran. Or maybe just Zevran himself, she couldn't be sure.

* * *

Her new bracers were not as comfortable as her old gloves, but she only had to glance in Zevran's direction to know she'd done good giving them to him. Just seeing him wearing them was enough, but every once and a while she'd notice him admiring them and it swelled her chest with a little pride.

If only he didn't know she was watching him, but the assassin missed nothing and she couldn't hide her thoughts from him.

They had fought plenty of sylvan in the Brecilian Forest, so when one more came to life, it wasn't at all surprising. No, what _was_ surprising was that it turned to regard the huge group and spoke. "This elder oak means you no harm; do not let the Grand Oak's words alarm. What manner of beast stands before this elder tree? Come closer creature and speak, do not flee."

It talked in rhyme, as if a talking tree wasn't strange enough.

"By the maker," Wynne mumbled under her breath. "The world is full of wondrous things."

Lyna had to agree as she stepped forward to address a tree. Dalish held trees very sacred, among most things in the forest; she wished someone would kick Morrigan for her when she muttered to kill the thing with fire. They were not killing things just to kill them, especially not something as interesting as the _Grand Oak._ "Never thought about it before, but it's kind of obvious that trees can't see. ...I'm Lyna, an elf?"

The tree seemed to chuckle, it almost seemed like it was the sound of two pieces of bark rubbing up against each other. How was it even speaking to begin with? Lyna couldn't even begin to guess. "An elf stands before me, and yes, it is quite true that trees cannot see. What brings an elf to the depths of this wood? There are wolves about, little elf, they'll see you as food."

The elf crinkled her nose at that. No, wolf food was not high on her list, but he must not be able to sense her group behind her. "The werewolves have attacked a nearby Dalish clan; we need to get passed the Veil to find their lair, you wouldn't happen to know how, would you?"

The Tree touched a branched hand to its wooden face in thought. "The grand oak may have a solution to your plight, but at the moment this tree is in dire fright. Dear elf, I have a favor to ask if I may be so bold, I have been robbed, my dear acorn I no longer hold. Without it I am empty, my seed is my being, I will surely wither, this tree is foreseeing. A reward the Elder Tree will give thee, a gift that will let you pass the forest free."

"Uhh, sure why not. What do I have to do?"

"Deep in this forest there is a man, take back the acorn from his hand. Bring my seed back to me, and you will see I do not lie to thee." The oak's arms bent back against his body, his head falling back and his legs became roots again. The tree slept.

Lyna smacked her lips once or twice. "That… was pretty cool."

They left the grove of trees, making their way to the areas they hadn't had the time to explore the day before. A wolf howl broke the morning's peace and the group had instantly drawn weapons, refusing to be caught off guard this time.

"The watch wolves have spoken truth. It seems we have not been so through with this one, my brothers and sisters." The Alpha wolf grunted his chest heaving with each breath he took.

"I'm a bit harder to kill then that." Lyna muttered darkly, and kicked herself for it. She wanted to talk with the wolves, not anger them more.

"It thinks to put us in our place," The wolf rumbled, sucking back the drool that dripped from its muzzle. "We are no longer simple mindless beasts; let that thought chill your spine. We will give you one more chance, run back to your clan Dalish, and tell them you have failed. We will gladly see the Dalish suffer the curse we have suffered for too long."

Lyna tried to calm her beating heart, she wasn't afraid, not as long as she could keep the alpha werewolf talking. "I only want to end the curse, if you as well if it is at all possible."

"Lies!" The wolf snapped, his teeth clicking together. "Zathrian sent you! He wishes only our destruction!"

"I am not of Zathrian's clan, if I can help I will, you need only let me try."

"You know nothing, do you? You have come far too late, little Dalish. The time for a peaceful solution has long passed. You are a fool, and we are done talking." With a feral growl lowered his flexing his clawed hands. "Run from the forest while you still can, little Dalish, we will not be so merciful the next time we met."

The parting yawl stung Lyna's ears, but the wolves did not attack and she was safe enough to put her blade away and rub at her ears irritably. "No one will tell me anything," She hissed to herself.

They were being followed; distant howls and yelps that could only come from the throats of wolves that were not wolves tracked their passage across the forest. Their presence set the group on edge, and there was no light hearted banter passed between any of them. Tense hours of walking went unfruitful and Lyna was sure they'd see the sea before ever finding a trace of the man who stole the Grand Oak's acorn.

It was around the time she had that thought that they stumbled into an abandoned camp. At least, she thought it was abandoned until a plume of smoke spilled ominously from a tree stump. "You're not a werewolf." The old man hissed when the smoke finally cleared.

"Tell me something I don't know," the Dalish said, rolling her eyes.

The mage seemed to ponder that a moment and replied, "The lions of Seheron pretend to be hurt by their cubs to build their confidence."

Lyna was speechless, almost speechless. "The… what's a _lion?"_

"He's gone mad dear, let it go." Wynne mumbled beside her.

"Okay, but someone _is_ going to tell me what a lion is, right?"

"_Later_." Wynne promised.

Clearing her throat, Lyna turned to the old man. "I need to ask you something."

"Questions, always with the questions. Questions made me go mad, or so they say. Maybe it will do the same for you." The mad man snickered at the thought. "As a question and you'll get a question but give an answer and you'll receive one in turn. Oh, I do love games."

Lyna starched the back of her head, confused. "You… want me to answer a question?"

"Wouldn't I have to ask you a question first?"

"Isn't that a question?"

"Would you know a question if I asked it?"

"This is going nowhere." Lyna groaned.

"That isn't a question! And if it is an answer, it's an answer to a question I've not asked!" Lyna smacked her hand against her forehead in dismay. The mad man was giving her a headache. Stupid games, the muscle under her eye twitched from the tension.

"Zev," She whispered nice and low so that no one could hear save him. "Think he might have that acorn hiding in his magic tree stump?"

"Hm. It's worth a look. Allow me; it has been a while since I've shoved my hand in a dark hole. Long story, that one."

"Alright. Go on, show-off."

Zevran slipped to the back of the group, blocked form the hermits view by Sten's imposing form. Lyna wasn't convinced he wouldn't notice. That was when an idea struck her.

"Distract him," She told Falonel quietly. The mabari run up to the hermit's tent pointedly staring at the man and lifted his leg.

If dogs could grin.

The hermit flailed in distress and chased the mabari around camp who stopped periodically to threaten another one of the man's possessions, barking happily all the while. Within a minute or so, Zevran returned slipping a fair sized acorn into her hand with that roguish smile of his. "It was booby-trapped, but I'm ridiculously awesome."

The mad mage stopped his chase of the dog and turned his angry gaze on them. Magic bubbled up from the ground and Lyna could already mark the presence of several shades. "How dare you steal from an old man's home!" The hermit hissed, magic bubbling up around him.

"So much for being ridiculously awesome, Zev." She grumbled, drawing her weapons as the first of the ashen monsters attacked.

Zevran snorted in distain, kicking a shade cleaved by Alistair's sword through the chest and reducing back to the pile of dust it began as. "I am not guaranteed against magic, Warden."

The hermit would need an army of wrath to fight off a group the size Lyna towed with her, but he seemed to lack the power. Falonel stanched the man by the ankle and the Dalish knocked the staff from his hand. Before she could finish the man off, he staggered and slumped to the ground. Zevran stood behind him, pummel head about head height.

Lyna's head tilted in curiosity. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"We steal from him _and_ we kill him?" The Antivan scoffed. "It left a bitter taste in my mouth is all, think little of it."

The Dalish couldn't fault him for that. If the assassin didn't like the idea, what would that make her to push it? The trip back to the Elder Tree was quite, more so of the calls of werewolves then from her party. The whitewood oak groaned to life and Lyna gladly handed the acorn to his waiting branches.

"You have returned little elf, and with my seed you bring to myself. A joy this day has been for me, to see my seed again I am with glee. Here is the gift that will let you walk the forest path, to find the werewolves and their wrath." The Grand Oak broke a piece of himself off, a small sprig with newly growing leaves, though they were the color of autumn and pressed it into her hand. "I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end! May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong."

* * *

Ma dirth Elvhenlin'in? Ma dirth shemlen dar'falon. Felas da'asha. _lit; You speak (of) Elf-blood within? You speak (to) human to be friend. Slow little woman.  
(You call yourself Dalish? You speak to the human as a friend. Stupid little girl.) _

Ar Abelas, Lyna. Ar dirth'in?_ lit; I Sorrow, Lyna. I speak with?  
(Excuse me, Lyna. Speak with me?)_

Abelas. _lit; Sorrow.  
(I'm sorry.)  
_

Atisha - _Peace_

_Yay~ The elvish is back. I'm _so_ happy. Not. :p_

_I love the Elder Tree._


	10. Chapter 10

_It's late! I've had a week from hell and on top of it this chapter _refused _to be written! :( I'm so sorry!_

* * *

"Wait!" The last werewolf groaned, clutching its side in pain, nearly falling over from just the act of stretching out its hand in defense. It drew in a ragged breath, its head bobbing with the motion. "Lyna- I- know you."

The Dalish Warden stretched out her own hand to hold back her companions. "Are you one of Zathrian's clan?"

The werewolf let out a pitiful sound, a groan of pain, a whimper of distress. "How fitting you should be the one to find me. After the way I treated you all those years ago, the Creators have finally sought fit to make me the monster I was."

"Danyla," Lyna breathed. So her uncle had been right and Zathrian had lied. Why would he keep this from Athras, even with the excuse that it was dangerous to venture into the forest, why would he not tell the man the truth? "Uncle is worried about you. Let me take you back to camp."

"Athras, _emma vhenan_… He cannot know… what I've become; he can't see me like this." The werewolf's breath caught in pain, and she groaned a pitiful sound and clutched at her chest. The fight against the curse was too much for her, so sure that she would only be a ravenous beast should she let it take hold. "It is too great, I cannot… I cannot fight the beast inside off much longer. Please, _da'lynamelana, _forgive this foolish old woman, do me a kindness. Take my life before the beast does."

Lyna shook her head, reaching out to touch the furred hand that rested on Danyla's bent knee. "I'm trying to break the curse, Zathrian says he can cure everyone infected, can you not hold on, just a little longer?"

"I am sorry Da'len. I haven't the strength. I won't last." The wolf groaned again and shook her head. A bitter laugh bubbled up between clenched teeth, golden eyes meeting Lyna's green for the first time. "Do you know it was I that convinced Athras to send you away? I did not want to raise another woman's child, even my bond-sisters. I was petty and cruel. Please, take my regret with my life, only death awaits me. Kill me while I am still Danyla, while I am still the woman Athras loved."

Lyna could not convince her to fight on, and in truth she lacked the will to try hard. It was painful for both of them, Lyna did not want the woman dead, but couldn't find the right words to spur the once Dalish Elf on. She felt painfully hollow; unable to feel pity for the woman and trying so hard to find it or any emotion for her, but not even rage could come, not after seeing Danyla like this.

_"Ma nevenin, _aunty, I forgive you_."_ It was a lie, the largest Lyna had ever told. She hated this woman, more than anything else in the world, but Lyna could not tell her aunt this. How do you deny a dying woman's last plea for forgiveness? Even if Lyna didn't feel it, the words were enough and she could never have been as cruel as her aunt had been.

_Ma serannas, da'riel. _Please, give my scarf to Athras… tell him- tell him I love him." The scarf came free with a gentle tug from around her neck. It was torn and bloody, but somehow it survived the grueling change into the beast-wolf.

"I will._Ir abelas, dareth shiral." _Lyna tied the length of blue fabric twice around her narrow waist before tying it off, she had no place else to keep it and she wanted to be sure to return it to her uncle; it was the only thing she could give him besides Danyla's last words. With an exhaled breath Lyna slid her dagger into her hand and with a quick stab shoved it up through her aunt's lung and into her heart, as fast and as painless as possible.

Danyla grunted from the pain, but the agony of it and her painful fight with the werewolf curse fled her body an instant later. The wolf's face almost looked peaceful and she let out a soft sigh. "Creators… bless you…"

"_Elvarel'din_, Aunty, _in_ _uthenera_ _na_ _revas_." The wolf slumped to the ground and the light died in her eyes.

Her hands were stained with the blood of her aunt, and Lyna took care not to soil the scarf around her waist as she cleaned her hands and dagger. No one said anything, and for that she was thankful. Anything they said would either mirror her own thoughts, or strike too close to what she knew she should feel, but didn't they would only get a snapped reply and Lyna already felt guilty enough without it even happening.

It was several minutes before Lyna felt enough time had passed before she could leave without disrespect and it was sad that _disrespect_ was the only thing she could seem to worry about.

Lyna had truly been happier not knowing.

* * *

The forest liked to shift. It was well known to the Dalish, which was why they never traveled so deeply into it without good reason and a large party, but to hear her companions complain that they had no idea where they were or how even to get back made her smile faintly. It was less about following trails in the Brecilian Forest and more of marking the sun and keeping its arch across the sky in mind. The southern part of the forest was also safer, and it was were her clan liked to spend time when clan _Rheaeni_ didn't occupy the grove they were settled in at the moment.

The hard part was finding a way for the band of humans to trek through the forest without making them trip and stumble their way through the brush like… well, like humans. Lyna sighed and thanked the Creators again that Morrigan knew woods just as well as she did. Between the two wild-lived women, they found the best way to lead their less than subtle band with little risk of broken bones and poison ivy.

Although, now that she thought about it, by the way Alistair kept rubbing his shoulder… "Alistair… you keep scratching your arm, you okay?"

"Uh. Yeah. Just an itch, think something bit me yesterday." Lyna was surprised he wasn't complaining about it, it was rare he wasn't complaining about _something._

"I doubt it would have still been itching if it was just a bite, want to have a look at it?"

"N-no. It's alright."

Did he not know the rash will spread with contact? Between wondering whether she should tell him, or just avoid touching his hands any time soon Lyna got her answer.

Apparently he found out the hard way.

It felt like it took them twice as long to find the one path that would lead to the forest deep. Even Morrigan was beginning to grumble at the forest for its intervention and Lyna was left wondering if the witch had used her magic against the forest because a moment later the path was right beside them as if it had been there all along.

The fogged path bubbled as she approached, as if the magic within it sensed the power of the branch given to her by the Grand Oak. Lyna was rather amused at herself; she had seen a human give her 'the finger' in the last town, of course she had no idea what it meant, other than it was intended d to be as rude as possible, until she had described the action to Alistair. So, of course Lyna had to hold the small twig up before her, resting it against her pointer finger while holding it in place with her thumb.

Magic pulled the branch from her hand and the fog rose to a boil against its power. The branch took on an ethereal glow trembling with power and with a burst the fog blew past the group on a wind, screeching like an angry wraith as it was forced away. With the last of the fog dispelled the branch shattered like glass and the tiny fragments floated away on the wind, sparkling in the sunlight.

A bit dramatic, Lyna thought, but it got the job done.

With the path now clear, it wasn't long until they found themselves walking through the broken ruins of an ancient building. Pieces of broken columns and the hint of stone worked corners told of a huge and extravagant entryway before their eyes finally fell on the remnants of what was once a beautiful structure.

"Tevinter ruins," Morrigan commented glancing down at the broken masonry. "I believe we are nearing our ultimate destination."

"Was there a city here, once?" Alistair asked no one.

Even Zevran was amazed by the ruin's presence. "Did the elves live with Tevinter humans? Or was this place built for them, I've certainly not heard of such a thing, but…"

"You all are assuming that the _Elvhen_ lived as the Dalish do," Lyna added with a bit more bite then she intended. It was true that the Imperium had spread all the way down to Ferelden in ancient times, but so did the ancient elven civilization. It had taken her a while to realize, though it was mostly because she actively avoided thinking about the ruins that had led her to become a Grey Warden, but it could easily be that it was the elves that had built this place and the humans had taken over after they had been subjugated. "Isn't it possible that they were the ones that built this, not the Tevinters?"

The two men had the decency to look ashamed, or at least regretful of forgetting they had a rather proud Dalish in their mitts. Morrigan however did as she always did, huff and rolled her eyes; she didn't care for the semantics, ruins were ruins after all.

"They don't mean anything by it, dear," Wynne offered making Lyna feel bad for making _them_ feel bad. Damn the mage and her motherly abilities. "Either way, we should get moving, this place that makes my skin crawl."

Lyna deliberately avoided the small graveyard nearby. The Dalish bury the dead, sure, but the headstones were something she thought was a human trait. No one saw fit to point them out to her and prove her theory wrong, not even snide Morrigan. Maybe even the witch felt bad. She probably just didn't care, that was more her style.

"It seems the forest has not been vigilant." The huge alpha wolf snarled. He's standing on something making himself look all impressive. "You are stronger than we thought, but you are not welcomed here. Leave this place."

Lyna was getting really tired of this, wasn't it obvious she wasn't going to turn around after all she'd done to get this far? This time the Dalish had much larger numbers on her side. The werewolves only came with a paltry group to great them compared with the scale they had a few days prior. They wouldn't be chasing her off any time soon. "I want to settle this, peacefully. The fact that you haven't attacked us proves that you're not savage beasts, why will you not let me try and end this to the benefit of all?"

"Even if you say you come in peace, you _are_ Dalish. In that alone we cannot trust your word." The large wolf snorted, shaking drool form his muzzle and flexing his clawed hands. "Do you think we do not know that you are sent by the Dalish to kill Witherfang? I will not allow that to happen."

"I might not need to kill Witherfang if you'd only let me help! You're only causing your people more pain and suffering by letting this drag on!" Lyna nearly threw her arms up in the air, these wolves were just as stubborn as the Dalish Keeper, won't _someone_ at least attempt at negotiating? The young warden was nearing her wits end, half ready to leave both the Dalish and the werewolves to whatever fate they felt was deserved.

"You are an intruder in our home, come to kill the one who has protected us, who gives us our names. All your kind is the same, we have learned this lesson and we will not be fooled again. We will defend this place with our _lives."_

The pack of werewolves gathered howled their agreement and charged. A furry of snapping teeth and furred bodies rammed into her group with little care for their own safety. A wolf yowled in pain, its cry gurgling as Alistair pulled freed his sword from its lungs. Another wolf couldn't even scream as it died, Liliana's arrow found a lucky shot in its eye and brain. Lyna's blade found the calcaneal tendon of one wolf, it's height doing it little good as it toppled right into Zevran's waiting Dagger. A spider skittered passed and Lyna nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight, forgetting for just an instant that it was Morrigan's ability.

"Can't you pick a bear!?" The elf hissed, thankful she had Zevran and Falonel nearby or she might have been the next Lycanthrope. The alpha werewolf had thought her distraction a perfect moment to overwhelm Lyna, and it would have been if not for her two rather fierce protectors.

It was a bad time to realize just how many times Zevran had been looking out for her over the last few days, void, since he _joined _them. She regretted doubting him, he was loyal beyond reason and despite his words he could easily die defending her as he did. He _could_ have died just the other day when they went over the cliff and that had been even before she'd even given him a hint that…

It was a _very_ bad time to remember what he'd been doing to her the last few days.

The alpha wolf knocked the mabari to the side and came after the small Dalish elf. Lilianna's arrow caught him in the shoulder, and Lyna was able to dive aside from the swiping claws and leave bloody lines across the beast's hips. The wolf had power, but Lyna was a little thing and her quick movements had him howling in rage more often than not. One moment she stood before him, the next the elf had somehow vanished and stood behind him, her daggers narrowly missing a devastating belly wound. A moment later, when he turned to confront her again she had moved away from the wolf's claws leaving long bleeding wounds in her wake as she spun away from his deadly claws. The lycanthrope snarled in rage, if he could only catch that deplorable little Dalish elf! The mabari hound suddenly barreled into him, shredding his unprotected chest with thick claws.

The wolf realized the distraction for what it was the moment cold steal slipped up between his ribcage.

Someone screamed her name just as the breath was forced from her lungs. Lyna tumbled and rolled, smashing the flat side of her dagger in the mass of white fur that toppled her over. The white wolf barked and snarled, but jumped away and with it the massive wolf retreated back into the ruins. Lyna snapped back to her feet, bow and arrow suddenly in hand she fired three arrows fast as lightning, but only the last managed to even graze the quick white wolf. That one was probably Witherfang. The Dalish cursed under her breath and spat blood on the ground. Who was stupid enough to bite their own lip in a fight?

"Intruders!" One of the wolves howled from his perch above them, his voice echoing throughout the forest and if Lyna had to guess by the chorus of howls, every werewolf in the ruins knew they were coming. "Fall back to the ruins! Protect The Lady!"

The ruins were far too familiar. Fear, no absolute terror gripped Lyna's chest at just the thought of going inside them _again._ The sky above her head was a nice distraction as Wynne looked over the rest of them.

"How did you manage this?" Wynne tapped her cheek smartly, noticing the blood still lingering on Lyna's lips. The elf cleaned her mouth with her tongue, just in case, and smiled sheepishly.

"I'm just lucky like that, I guess." The mage snorted and while it wasn't necessary, healed the small wound in her cheek.

With that done, they turned to the ruins. They barely opened the heavy stone doors, something both Sten and Alistair had work together on, the wolves must have another way in, when ancient bones rattled to life and hissed in unearthly anger at the intrusion of their resting place. It had been months since she last saw a walking skeleton, and time had only made her forget the fear they inspired. It had not, however, made her forget how fragile they were. Zevran was just as a quick study for her as she had been for him, watching her rip and tear at the bones rather than slip in and stab, he quickly adapted to the style with the undead things and soon bones became dust and the hall was quite again.

Their steps echoed in the chambers, bouncing off walls and warping until every sound made the group flinch with the thought of a cave-in. "Did you hear that?" Leliana mumbled Lyna wasn't sure if it was them or the old building, so she shook her head.

There was no Falon'din this time, but Lyna found herself recognizing some of the statues of the Elven Pantheon. Her hands brushed over the crumpled statue of Mythal, her altar was decorated with the elaborate twists and swirls that made up Lyna's vallaslin. The discovery almost made her cry, there were times when she wondered if they had somehow gotten the signs wrong, or mixed them up somehow. Seeing this place was more of a spiritual experience and one Lyna hadn't realized she needed.

"What does it mean?" Zevran asked when his light steps brought him to her side.

"This place is guarded by the All-Mother, the Protector Mythal." Her eyes were still on the altar and the crumbling symbol of Mythal. The reality of it struck her; she had to warn the rest of them. "We should tread lightly. The gods might be gone, but their magic still lingers and is strong."

"Protector, hum?" She thought she heard Zevran say, but the sound was drowned out by the echoes of human voices. They moved on from the main chamber into the corridors and despite Lyna's warning, they didn't find anything worse than a few giant spiders. Lyna might have jumped out of her skin when they rattled down the walls and attacked, but at least Zevran waited until after they were dead to laugh at her about it.

"Do you dislike spiders, Warden? It does explain why you snapped at our dear Morrigan." He asked quietly, his eyes glittering with mischief.

"Only the big ones," She mumbled under her breath, trying not to look directly at him. "Why, want to make me pet one?"

The assassin laughed again. "No, no. I am not so cruel. I might even share in your dislike."

"Might?"

He shrugged. "Might not."

"You're bad." Lyna pouted.

"I think you enjoy it," he purred the words. It took the young Dalish a full second before her face got hot and she skittered off to the front of the group, Zevran's gaze was an itch on her back after that, but she refused to turn around. The halls led down, rows after rows of steps that led them to who knew where. Lyna thought she heard the flap of wings and paused.

"I hear breathing," Wynne added quietly. The stairwell opened up to another main chamber, this one's wall was caved in and let plant life and sunshine stream in. It however, did not do anything for the smell of whatever called this place home. There was another flap of wings and a roar that sounded nothing wolfish that sent shivers down everyone's spine, except for maybe Sten's. They all knew without saying what called this camber home.

"Fearsome pretty things…" Lyna whispered realizing it had been a long time since she found need to quote the Arlathan poem.

The female dragon landed with a crack of stone tiles under its feet and roared its displeasure at their intrusion. She pulled her head back and spat her fire at them, a giant glob of sticky, burning phlegm. Why couldn't something try and _cold_ her to death for once? Lyna liked the cold; it was really just too much to ask.

Lyna was far happier letting her warrior friends shove their faces in fiery dragon spit, and the mages agreed with her. She stayed nice and far back, notching arrow after arrow in the dragon's thick hide. Her head was rather small, but Lyna was one of the best archers of her clan, and that wasn't her own boastful words either. There was also that small bit of satisfaction for making the dragon gag on an arrow rather than spit another wad of fire in Alistair's face. A wicked swipe from the qunari's blade cut the young dragoness' wing off at the shoulder. The detached limb twitched and spasmed like the dropped tail of a lizard and the young dragon screeched in pain. The sound was cut painfully short when Alistair's blade cleaved her head from her neck.

The body was still twitching in death when Lyna breathed a half nervous laugh. "We killed a dragon. Granted, it was a little one, but that was still a dragon and no one got eaten and _I _didn't get burned! Is it my name-day or something?"

Wynne went about treating a few burns on the others, they were not so lucky, but Lyna didn't mind. They might not have been real, but the memory of every painful burn she'd taken in the fade was enough to last her a lifetime and she didn't have Wynne there to sooth them away quickly. Alistair smirked were he stood, cleaning his blade and shield of dragon's blood. "When _is_ your name-day?"

"Oh, I actually don't know. Dalish don't keep calendar like you lot do. I usually wait till the beginning of fall and call it another year." The Dalish shrugged, realizing what she said. Most of the joy left her, she didn't like admitting the shortcomings of her people, but how would one keep track of exact days while living out in the forests and traveling all the time? The keepers might know, but the regular hunters wouldn't concern themselves with the names of days, only that they past and came again.

The former Templar cleared his voice. "Any particular reason why Fall?"

"Mostly because Spring and Summer are busy for us and I usually don't notice them going buy. Fall is usually spent packing the camp and moving the _aravelen_ to the winter grounds."

"Next you'll tell me you're not even Ferelden."

Lyna frowned a bit, she was sure that crossed her mind at once point, but she couldn't remember if she voiced it aloud or not. "I've not mentioned that? I don't really know that either."

The human shuffled aimlessly, and her eyes drifted to the others of the group, most of which were rummaging through the dragon's hoard. "That… must be hard."

The Dalish sighed and shrugged again. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't idyllic (and her eyes cast to Zevran for a fraction, and he of course caught her eye, he'd been listening), but it was happy enough. More than enough before she knew there was more to the world then her little clan. "It's the price of remaining free Alistair. Your chantry and your towns don't like us, sometimes for good reasons, but not always. Little things like nationalities and name-days are lost in the process, but we give them up willingly for the sake of what we hold in greater value."

"So… how old are you, exactly."

Lyna tried not to laugh, she really did, but it came anyway and she covered her face with one hand even as her head titled back. "You don't _really_ want to know. The lot of you will lose all respect for me."

Alistair smiled; he wasn't trying to make her laugh, but seemed glad that he had done so even if it wasn't intended. "_That_ young?"

"Yeah, _that_ young."

The Dragon's room would have been a dead end if not for the cave-in that opened up a tunnel just on the other side of the wall, she could already see another part of the ruins were she stood, but the slip into the broken tunnel brought back more panic that Lyna fought to swallow down. Less than willingly, Lyna ducked through the hole, the males, other than lithe Zevran, found the task hard covered in unyielding metal but they managed it without the need to disrobe in front of everyone.

_"Ma halani! Se vara lassa'val! Nae Mal!" _

Lyna turned back just in time to see the unearthly white shape of a woman staring down the unpolished stone channel towards them. The Dalish took one step and the woman took off running into the larger chamber.

"Did you hear that?" Leliana was glancing up at the stone walls, the sound bounced of them and confused her, wondering where the voice had come from.

"Did you _see_ that?" The chantry sister shook her head; it seemed Lyna was the only one who noticed the woman.

"Do you know what they said?"

"My… end? No, rest maybe. You people go… _lassa'val_? _Alas'rla?_… I'm not sure. It kind of sounds like… earth… grave, maybe." She frowned, the words were said and haste and she wasn't sure she caught them all, but she tired her best with them. Lyna sighed and shook her head at the attempt. "So much of our language is lost, I can't be sure, but the last thing she said was 'no, stop'."

"As much as I'd like to, we can't do that."

"No, we can't."

Lyna's best guess seemed to be on the mark. After they dealt with a few more giant spiders, the corridor they found themselves in opened up to a huge room. The forest had taken over most of it, sunlight streamed in between the thick leaves of vines. This time they all saw the ghost that paced in the middle of the room.

_"Mamae? Mamae na mara san..."_

Lyna had never been so unconfident in her ability to speak as she was right now. There was no guaranty that the boy could even hear her to begin with, but if he could and she misspoke. She tried anyway. _"Na dar'bora, da'len? Ar falon, an na mamae?"_

_"Mamae? Mamae!?"_ The spirit wailed like he hadn't heard her, his voice hitching in a sob before he ran off into an adjacent chamber. Lyna would have followed him if she could, but the dead did not take well to them upsetting the child and it took several long minutes before they were put to rest again. By that time however, the spirit of the child was long gone. The Dalish followed his trail anyway, but the room he had vanished into only held the bones of the long dead. Her hands brushed lightly against the solid stone and she felt the call to her magic from the old words.

Glancing behind her to make sure no one was watching, she pulled at her own magic, taking half a second to remember she no longer wore the thick Dalish gloves, and touched the stone. The words glittered to life in the stone. _Uthenera._

"What does it mean?" Zevran nearly made her jump out of her skin when she spoke, and he smirked only faintly.

"When the _Elvhen _became weary of life, they would enter the _Uthenara_- it was like a sleep, their bodies would remain here, alive, but their spirits would go on to the Beyond. It was a celebrated thing and sometimes they'd even wake again and share what they've learned with The People…" Lyna picked up a small broken tablet, it too called to her magic and she was thankful for Zevran go guarded her from prying eyes as the magic brought the words to life. "…Of course, it's not something that's practiced anymore; even the magic of Dreamers has been lost for years."

Lyna frowned as the magic lit up the words to her eyes and slowly faded away. It was the prayer to the dead that would open the way to a dreamer's sleeping chamber. Could they still be alive in this place? It was entirely possible if the tales of _Uthenara_ and Dreamers could be believed to the letter, but there was no telling how much was truth and how much was allegory warped by time and oral telling.

The stone tablet was heavy, she couldn't take it with her, but the words were short and easy, though she could not fathom the meaning of all of them, she could remember them for later. There was nothing else here, so the group moved on. It didn't take long before they found the spirit of the child again. He stood before a stone door, waiting for them.

_"Mamae na isala hamin'in," _he said before fading from site.

"He says his mother is within and is in need of rest." Lyna offered, the last bit sounding more than a little ominous. By his words, there was little chance they'd find a living elven dreamer from the time of Arlathan, though to even have hope of such a thing was more than the Dalish could have asked for.

The door opened easily and led on to the balcony of a huge room. Below was a small pool of crystal clear water. Lyna walked down the steps to the pond and kneeled before it. The tablet had shown her what to do. To her surprise the humans, dog and Qunari remained at the top of the balcony, only Zevran being the only other elf had come down to the lower level with her, though he stood closer to the stairs and didn't approach. She was thankful for their compassion.

The ritual was simple enough, aside from the prayer. An innocent clay pitcher sat at the bottom of the pool, Lyna's arms were soaked to her elbows when she reached in to pull it out, and the water was deceptively deep. Filled with water the container was taken to an altar tucked away in the corner and placed atop it. Lyna then kneeled before the dais and whispered the words to the prayer that was written on the tablet. Standing again, she took the pitcher and sipped a mouthful of water before returning to the pool and dumping the water back in. With the last drop returned to the pool, the pitcher shattered and crumbled from her hands.

The door to the anterior chamber opened of its own accord.

This room had been desecrated long before their aravel, the long dead bones scattered haphazardly across the stone floor. There had once been a flower garden in the middle of the room, and the light from the sun streamed in from the open ceiling, a lattes having encouraged the vine growth above. It was all dead now; the thinness of the veil only allowing _Felandaris,_ demon weed, to thrive within the bed, a brier of twisted skeletal branches reaching out from the grave.

Lyna's skin crawled. The raised dais held one lone casket, its lid long thrown open. No one missed the spirit of the woman who swung at fought at enemies long dead.

**_"_**_Viran se lan'aan? Ir annala for ros..." _The spirit asked when Lyna and her companions approached.

"She wants to know how we found this place. It has been lost for... along time." the Dalish told them, her hands drifting to her own daggers. The spirit seemed to tense

_"Ir annala for ros... Nae! Ga rahn s'dael! Ga rahn! Ir emah'la shal! Ir emah'la shal!"_ Lyna did not have the chance to translate. Bones rattled to life, wraiths bumbled up from the dust and the spirit of the woman attacked. It was over before Lyna could get her mind around it, there was not enough dead to pose much a threat to her group and old bones were much too fragile besides. They really had desecrated the spirit's resting place, but they had little choice. There was stark sanctimony in her actions and it burned Lyna to the core.

Alistair touched her shoulder. "Alright there?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered and sighed. "We put her to rest, just like he asked us too." The Templar frowned but nodded.

* * *

Lyna stumbled backwards down the stone steps. How in the name of _Elgar'nan_ did this keep happening to her? The undead came in as a horde and cut a swath through her and her companions. Their absolute numbers gave them the edge and pushed them away from each other and not even Zevran managed to stay close enough by before the possessed skeletons knocked her down a flight of stairs and into a room. She smashed into an old book shelf and the heavy thing teetered and crashed against the doorframe, another fallowing right after it crushing an unlucky carcass of bones. The room was haphazardly, but solidly, sealed off and the ravenous skeletons shambled off for easier pray.

The sounds of fighting died down, and she was left alone, but was unable to move the shelving by her, old as it was, the wood was heavy and still head strong after all these years. Maybe they hadn't seen were she'd been pushed too and were looking for her. Lyna hoped so.

The room was littered with books, most of wish she couldn't read, others that simply didn't make sense to her. Her eye caught something glittering, a gem that swirled red and gave off a powerful feeling of magic. Lyna almost thought better of it, but picked up the artifact anyway, gently brushing her fingers along the edge of the jewel set in it.

The gem was warm. She could see a beautiful forest, a temple that looked something like the ruins from outside, light and laughter filled her mind and suddenly a presence, a mind within the gem itself. They both reacted in alarm; Lyna pulled her hand away and nearly dropped the phylactery. She felt loneliness not her own, deep and painful, the presence from the gem called out to her, begged her with every essence to touch the gem again.

"Don't be a demon, please," She whispered to it. "I just got done telling my friend I've never been tempted by a demon, I don't need to be proven wrong."

There was a tickle in her mind at the Thought of Zevran, and she felt what she thought was knowing mirth flow through the presence. She realized it could see some of her thoughts, and that made her bite her lip in embarrassment. Keeping thoughts of him away was harder than she thought they'd be. The presence assured her it was not a demon, though it had no idea how to prove it to her. Lyna relented and hesitantly touched it again. "What are you?"

It did not know. Or it could not remember. It had gone mad and slept so many times, it couldn't be sure of anything, not even her, but it longed for contact so badly that it was willing to believe she was real, if only for the moment. Magic coursed through her body the presence felt her weak connection. It had been like her, an elf, but with magic far stronger. Lyna gave him an image of the mages she knew, but the presence disagreed and with her permission it pulled forth an image of Alistair in his glittering armor. Lyna was confused; she'd never seen a mage fight with sword and shield, not with staff, but this it was sure of. Both mage and warrior, a name edged its mind but was lost with the time. Everything else was a fog, lost to his madness far too many times. It wanted an end to it, to finally be able to rest.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

Oblivion; rest. That was all it desired. It showed her an altar, an image of the gem cracking, and such peace that Lyna had never felt before. It was sure that the altar was near, though were it could be, it did not know. "I can do that for you, but is there anything you can tell me of your life, anything at all? We've lost most of our history and a desperate to get it back."

It gave her what it could, it remembered a place of serenity that the Eldest came to rest and others offered tribute to the gods. The war was less than a flash of a thought, but she knew the feeling of fighting and violence, but it had happened in that place. It wasn't sure what had started it or what had ended it, a terrible feeling of dread and panic washed over the two of them, but the presence could not place what had caused such a reaction, only remember feeling it. Nothing more remained. "Thank you."

The image given to her of the altar matched the one tucked away in a corner of the room, freed from sight by the fallen bookcases. It wanted to give her what knowledge it still head to become like it was. Her magic was too weak for it to be helpful to her now, but she could still pass it on to those with greater magical powers. Lyna accepted, it was the knowledge of her people and even this small bit was precious.

It could feel the end drawing near, and elation rippled through it. The nightmare was finally ending, gratitude poured over Lyna as she walked and placed it on the altar. A moment of relief and the gem shattered, the presence was gone.

"Lyna!"

"Hey!" The elf gasped at Alistair's voice, scrambling over the discard tombs that littered the room. How long had she spent talking to it? "Can someone move this shelf? It's too heavy."

She heard a grunt, the swing of a sword and wood shattered on the force of the blade in Sten's hand. Easily, the small elf stepped through the hole, greeted by her companions. Alistair was looking a little perturbed. "How do you keep getting into messes like this?"

"I'm a fox like that." She replied with a shrug. Maybe if they thought she did these things on purpose, they wouldn't realize how unlucky she could be. "Weren't we here for werewolves or something?"

Alistair snorted at her flippancy but smiled and walked on.

"Were you talking to someone?" of course Zevran would have heard her, she hadn't thought about that when she started talking to the gem.

"There were books in there, I like books. Somewhere kind of hard to read though, strange script I couldn't make out easily," Lyna still wasn't sure what the presence might have been. She wanted to be honest with him, but she couldn't. Not with the rest of them within ear shot. "Most of them I think were magical, they were too complicated though. I hope the keeper or his first will be able to get in here if we can agree something with the werewolves…"

Hopefully he got her hint about the magic. If he wanted to know, he could ask her later.

"You talk to books?" He asked with a half-smile.

Lyna smiled innocently. "In case they ever want to talk back."

* * *

They emerged in the werewolf lair, soaked to the bone, the only tunnel into the deep flooded. Much to his distain, Falonel had to be carried through; the dog couldn't swim, or keep his head above the deep water while touching the bottom. If dogs could look perturbed. Falonel barely had the time to shake the water from his coat before the werewolves were on them. Some appeared from the shadows, rogues in wolf coats. They lycanthropes only had a moment's advantage before Lyna's group rallied and beat them down.

Lyna was saved by Alistair when, much like Falonel's tactic, a werewolf pulled her feet out from under her his snapping jaws at her face when her back hit the floor. The Templar smashed a shield into the furred flank and Lyna was able to roll to her knees and level an arrow in the beast's neck.

The next few rooms were little different, wolves throwing themselves at the group with abandon. Lyna was getting really tired of the smell of dog breath in her face by the time they opened the final door with a nimble looking werewolf waiting for them. "Be at ease brothers and sisters. We do not wish anymore of our people hurt. We will let you through as long as you're intent is a peaceful one."

Lyna breathed a sigh of relief, checking her own group to make sure they didn't make any sudden movements. "Finally, someone is willing to listen to me. I've been trying to tell that big wolf that all along, the only reason I've fought any of... your people is because they've attacked me first."

The wolf might have sighed too, but it sounded more like a growl from the half-wolf throat. "Swiftrunner may lead us, but I am the Guardian, I protect. If an audience with the Lady is what you seek I will allow it, but if you draw your blade elf, the whole of the pack will fall on your heads."

A small smile crossed Lyna's face at that; she knew what it meant to be a guardian. "Just give me the chance to speak, to whom ever will listen. That's all I ask."

With a nod the guardian led them deep into the wolves den. It wasn't hard to guess that allowing her group in was not among popular opinion. Most snarled and snapped at them as they walked, a few lashed out with razor claws, but none approached and only tried to antagonize a fight.

The huge alpha wolf, Swiftrunner, waited for them, beside him stood an ethereal woman, cloaked in a twisting bramble of vines. Lyna recognized that pattern from the white wolf that had attacked her in front of the ruins. It didn't make much sense, but then, this was a spirit, not a living being. This Lady and Witherfang may be one and the same.

"Welcome, mortal. I am The Lady of the Forest."

"Thank you for finally seeing me, I hoped from the beginning that there was some way to resolve this another way."

"Do not listen!" The wolf growled snapping at Lyna and making her flinch back. "She will betray you as all her kind do."

"Your eagerness for battle has only caused the death of those you are trying to save." The Lady's voce was calm and soothing. Lyna had to bite her lip to keep from saying _I told you so._ Somehow she doubted that would go over well with the volatile wolf. "Swiftrunner tells me you are not of Zathrian's clan, and I fear you have been led astray."

"Why are the werewolves attacking the Dalish as they have been? Even my clan has had run-ins with… your people, but they've never been so…" Lyna frowned, trying to find the words without being disrespectful. "Organized..? as they are now."

"Have confidence, I will not take offence so easily." Lyna wasn't worried so much of the Lady as the wolves that guarded her. "It was Zathrian who created the curse these creatures now suffer, the same curse that his people now suffer as well. Centuries ago there was a tribe of humans that lived near to this forest and when the Dalish came, they sought to drive them away."

The lady sighed. "Zathrian was young then, with a son and daughter he loved dearly. One day the humans captured his children."

"The humans… tortured the boy." The wolf called Swiftrunner growled; his head hung low in shame. "The girl was raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her in time, but she later learned she was… with child and took her own life."

Lyna's hand trembled; there was nothing as foul as rape. For the elves, a child born from the union with a human would always appear human with little to show for their elven heritage. To the Dalish, who wish preserve elves and elven history, there is nothing that is harder to accept then that fact. A child born out of love is one thing, but to have it forced, to be made to carry the seed that only brought a feeling of shame. Lyna did not blame the girl and pitied her and her child.

"Was it you… Swiftrunner?" She asked a growl in her voice to match that of the wolves before her. Her hand drifted to her dagger, if they had _dared_…

"No," He said, softly. Lyna's had relaxed, the wolf watched as she let it slip back to her side. "The ones that committed that terrible crime are long dead. Only Zathrian's curse remains. We only seek to end it. We hoped that by spreading the curse to the Dalish clan, we would force Zathrian's hand."

"We have tried asking him to come speak with us." The Lady added, her voice growing menacing with each word. "Word was always sent when the clan was spotted, but he as always ignored us. We will not be denied any longer. Please, mortal, perhaps you can bring Zathrian here. We only wish an end to the suffering, if he comes and speaks to us, he will surely agree."

The Lady did not know Zathrian like Lyna did, but still the Dalish found herself nodding in reply. "I don't know what good it will do. Zathrian has always been stubborn, but I'll drag him here by his point ears if I have to."

Someone behind her laughed at that, but she couldn't tell who.

"Take this path, mortal." The lady motioned and two wolves pulled open heavy doors. A long flight of stairs lay beyond. "It will take you to the top of the ruins."

Lyna thanked the lady and her group followed as she made her way out of the wolves den. The stairs were dizzying, harder than any hike through the woods. "You've all been very quiet through this whole thing."

Alistair shrugged. "We figured it was a Dalish problem. You don't really need us to comment."

"Thanks, _Lethallin_." Lyna's shoulders felt heavy. "And I'm sorry. I had hoped you'd never see this side of the Dalish, not for yourself anyway. I've never felt so ashamed, don't think badly us all because of him."

"The fact that you do speaks well of you and your clan," Wynne's staff tapped against the ground as they walked. The stairs were tough on her old bones, even after a lifetime of living in that tower. "You see what he has done is wrong and you are trying to rectify his mistake, not for your sake, but for the sakes of all those involved."

"You should see the clans of Antiva; they make this Zathrian look like an angry _gattino_. Hum..." The elf frowned, trying to recall the proper word in Trade. "Kitten."

"And angry _bald_ kitten?" Lyna chuckled at the mental image. Zevran stopped her from speaking farther; they'd reached the top of the stairs and before them stood the elf in question. He did not look amused, though Lyna wasn't sure if it was because he heard them or not. "Keeper, what are you…"

"Hum, you were taking too long, da'asha. I came to see why. I also see that you have yet to kill Witherfang."

The Keeper crossed his arms over his chest waiting for her explanation like a dissatisfied parent and the young Dalish shuffled nervously. "I… spoke with The Lady, a spirit of some kind. They want to speak to you, Zathrian; they say there is a way to lift the curse from everyone, not just the Dalish."

The man sneered at the suggestion his staff hitting the stone floor with a crack that made even the humans flinch. "And why would I want to do that? Those humans deserve the punishment they were given; now they truly resemble the beasts that are within them."

"Keeper," Lyna attempted, keeping her voice as calm as she could. Frankly, she was ready to slap the man and drag him back by his ankles, or at least have Sten do it. "This is beyond cruel; surely they've paid for whatever mistakes they've made in the past. Will you not speak to The Lady? Undo what you've done? Has it not been long enough?"

"Never! It will never be enough. These humans killed my son, raped my daughter and drove her to suicide when she learned she bore an elf-blooded child. They were my life! And the humans took it away, so I have taken theirs." It was hard not to keep from fidgeting under Zathrian's hard stare, Lyna had to remind herself that this man did not hold any of her respect and did not deserve it either. Still, she wanted a peaceful solution and that would only be achieved by convincing him to come willingly to the wolf's den.

"If it really has been that long then these people you've cursed are innocent of the crimes. How can you let them suffer for nothing? They only wish to be human; they've never done any harm to you why won't you free them?"

He turned on her, his arms going wide in exacerbation. "_Arlathan_ was destroyed by humans, they are the reason we are Dalish and you defend them?"

Frustrated Lyna's voice hit a pitch, her hands slicing the air in front of her, she was dimply aware that this was a new thing for her, something Zevran normally did when he spoke, but the anger was too much for her to dwell on it. "Tiventer was the ones who enslaved us, not those in Ferelden, and even if that were true, _these_ people have nothing to do with that. And do you forget that it was a human who freed us from those bonds? You're content to leave out the facts that don't paint the humans in the light you want. Are you really so set in your rage?"

"You are a child; you cannot understand the pain I have gone through. I have resolved this in the best way possible; the _shemlen_ will pay for what they have done." Zathrian's staff came down, but this time it lacked to force to make a deafening crack. He stared down at her, in that way with his head titled slightly back, condescending. "But I see there is no reasoning with you. Fine, I will speak with the Lady, but they are animals and they will attack, mark my words. I want your word that you'll defend me when they do."

Lyna took a deep breath before speaking again. "Zathrian, _Mythal'enaste_, I will defend you, but only if it is not you who attacks first. Hear what they have to say, please."

* * *

"So the spirit has taken a name and given names to the beasts that follow you. Are they your… pets, spirit?" Swiftrunner snarled in rage and moved to confront Zathrian's harsh words, but Lyna stood before him in an instant, her hands on her blades, and the big wolf stood down.

"They were the ones to give me a name, Zathrian; they follow me because I help them find who they are." The spirit approached the Keeper, her hands out in peace before her. "Is there no room in your heart for compassion? Is your retribution not spent? It does not have to be this way."

"My retribution is _eternal_, spirit. This is _justice_ and I will not undo the curse."

"So, now you're killing your own clan out of this animosity?" Lyna cut in, standing beside both the spirit and the Dalish Keeper. "There is no justice in that! The _humans_ that committed that crime have died long ago. These people are innocent but you've let this hate consume you; control you. Have you no mercy?"

"Marathari is too soft; there is no mercy for _shemlen_, no innocence among them." Zathrian snorted, sneering and motioning with his staff in the direction of her group. "Even they will stab you in the back _Felas da'asha."_

"Do not speak badly of people you don't even know. They are good, but you can't seem to see past the hate in your heart." Lyna tried not to snap and failed. "They are _ma vhen, _and I trust them with my life."

Zathrian's face twisted with outrage, utter appall and mortification at her words. "How dare you call these _shemlen _your clan! How dare you fight beside them like they are worthy to be in _elvhen. _You are not worthy to be called Dalish!"

Lyna's patience with the bigot broke. "Neither are you! Not worthy to be called keeper! Or a leader! A leader does not martyrize his clan. A Keeper protects the clan, at all cost. But it is you who have brought the werewolves down on your own people! You saw only darkness in the hearts of others and cursed them all as you saw fit, but the brutality is of your own soul, and the ones who suffer are those that are innocent. Even if you do not believe that of the humans at least believe it of your own clan, or have they too become tainted in your withered heart!?"

"I will die before I let them go unpunished, it is what they deserve!" Magic swelled up from his staff and the trees in the sanctum groaned to life. "You are Dalish, girl, stand by me or die with these dogs. Prove that you have a shred of care for your blood."

"No Keeper. I will not."

There werewolves and Witherfang were trapped, paralyzed by Zathrian's magic. Lyna was trying to reach the keeper, but the Sylvans blocked her path snagging her in a tangle of roots until Morrigan set them alight with a fireball. The keeper summoned Shades that leaped at the lithe elf, but the attacks were cut short when Alistair smacked them aside with his kite shield. Lightning crackled over Lyna's head a she dodged the magical blast. The Dalish mage tried to blast her with winter's spell, but she was behind him before the magic left his staff. Lyna was hesitant to kill him and that moment left the flat of her blade smacking painfully against the man's ribs. He turned on her, fighting her off with his staff and had centuries of practice with the style, but he could not keep up with her quick movements for long. The young warden's pummel smacked into his chest, knocking the wind from him.

Zathrian stumbled, his staff falling free from his grasp. Lyna stood above him, her dagger at his neck. "What kind of example are you giving by letting your hate push you to this extreme? Do you not realize that you damn every Dalish with the existence of this curse? You prove every horrible story the humans and city-elves tell; you are the reason the humans feel justified in hunting us down when we come too close to their towns; because of _this_. Are the not right in their hate, or can you look at what you've done and say no more wrong could come from it?"

The keeper looked as if he was about to speak and Lyna cut him off with a shake of her head. "There is no one left, Zathrian. They are gone, their bones are dust in the wind, but you hold on to this hatred like it is all you live for. You blame all of them, when in truth their only shame is to be of the blood you have cursed. Will you not give them a chance? If not them, will you not do it for your clan? Please."

There was a long moment of tense calm before the Keeper sighed, resigned.

"I am too old… Mercy… it is beyond me. The curse has sustained my life thus far, but I feel as if I've loved too long. This hate is like a gnarled root in my soul." The old elf with an offered hand from Lyna, his staff called back to his hand by magic. "It is not only my life that is bound to the curse, you know this Spirit, are you not afraid of the end?"

The Lady shook her head. "I have known all the joys of life, because of you, my maker, but above all I wish it to end. Please, I beg you… _we _beg you. Show mercy. Put an end to the curse."

"I am shamed, spirit. I truly have lived too long… I think it is time to end to it all."

The wolves touched the Lady reverently in a final good bye. Zathrian's staff tapped the ground and a bright light swirled around them. A moment later it was gone and the Lady faded away in sparking light. Zathrian's lifeless form fell to the ground. One by one the light took hold of each werewolf and the curse was pulled away from there being. Men and women stood before them each one. Some stared at themselves in amazement, others embraced with joy.

"Thank you," The man who was once Swiftrunner said. "We will leave this forest; try to join society as humans."

The walk back to the clan was strangely uneventful, even the forest seemed to be at peace; the Lady's essence must have returned to where it belonged. There was both happiness and sorrow in the clan as Lanaya was welcomed as the new Keeper and a memorial was held for Zathrian. The former Keeper had been a lot of things, but he had cared for clan Rheaeni for centuries and was loved dearly by the clan. To Lyna's delight and mostly thanks to Lanaya's opened mind, the clan had accepted the humans as honored guests and happily spoke with them showing them what Lyna knew that clans could really be like.

She however, felt out of place wandering between aravel and Dalish. She whittled time away, having taken the new keeper aside and showed her the fighting art that the presence in the ruin had given her. Lanaya took it in reverence, promising to pass it on to those worthy and bring back the lost art not only in this clan, but in those she would meet in the _Arlathvhen._

The forest was safer than it had been in years, and everyone else was too busy to notice when Lyna slipped off.

* * *

"Want some company?"

"Warden!" Lyna tried not to look pleased; it wasn't every day that you snuck up on an assassin. He had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't heard her scramble below the huge sycamore that they'd taken as a hiding spot. The tree hung sideways from an outcrop in the cliff face, shielding everything from the sight of the path above with its trunk alone not to mention the massive leaves. "How did you find me?"

"I'm Dalish?" He snorted at that, and she smiled sheepishly. "You're in my favorite spot."

He seemed to accept that answer and she sat with her back to him, he hadn't said anything, but the serious look that had graced his face when she had come up told her something was wrong. Lyna couldn't pry however, and it was he that spoke first. "Why are you not back at camp with the rest of them?"

The Dalish sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I… can't. They finally get to see the good side of the Dalish, the clans accepted them as friends and even saviors, but… I can't be there."

"You are missing your clan?"

"It's… more than that. I'm ashamed. They saw the worst part of Zathrian proved that every bad thing the humans think of the Dalish is not only possible, but true. Even I wasn't so great an example when we first met. I just… don't want sour their impressions of us any more than they've already been." Lyna frowned, rubbing her boot against the edge of the tree branch.

"I doubt something like this would turn them against you. Did we not stand by you in the wolf's lair?"

Lyna smiled at that. "No your right, just…" She struggled for the words and couldn't find them. "I don't know. I'm just more comfortable with the thought of letting them be for now. … Why are you out here?"

"No reason, Warden."

His words were short, and Lyna flinched a bit, turning around to meet his eyes. "If you want me to leave, I will."

"No, no, it is fine." It was his turn to sigh and they both shifted into slightly more comfortable positions. Her with her legs tucked under her, him with one leg stretched out an elbow resting on the other, and he spoke with his free hand. "…I told you I once ran away to a Dalish clan, yes?"

"You didn't mention why you left, but I didn't want to pry."

"At first they were accepting, but the Crows wished me back. The Dalish did not give in easily at first, they were willing to defend me, but then they realized just who they were fighting against and after a time thought that one lone city elf was not worth the lives of the entire clan, not in the face of an assassin's guild."

"They forced you to leave?"

Zevran shook his head, once. "No, I left on my own. I realized that I was endangering all of them by trying to remain. They put on a front of concern when I told them I would be going back, but I knew they were happy to see me go.

"The Crows themselves were angry, but they let it go. I was young and foolish, but very skilled and they didn't want to lose their investment. Of course, it has come to bite them seeing as I've run yet again." He leaned back, his head resting against the hard bark of the tree. "Seeing the clans again… it had me considering the fact that the Crows might try to take me back, though it is more likely, as I said, that they will kill me as I've proven the deserter too many times now.

"I am not a free man, much as I like to pretend otherwise. I may have sworn an oath to you, but it might cost you more in the end when they do come. I should not burden you farther, though I would welcome your help when they do come."

"Zev, you know I'd help you." A faint smile crossed his face, it was one of the most sincere Lyna had ever seen on him. Why did he not show this more often, she wondered.

"My dear Warden, your words, kind as they are, are spoken in ignorance. It is not just one man or two or a handful that will come, though they will. I will soon have the whole of the Crows on my back, and they will not stop hunting me until I am dead, or until every leader has been killed. It would be too much, even for you. You cannot, you should not."

"Isn't that for me to decide?"

"I've been taking liberties with you. " His face turned solemn, the look did not suit him. "You've never asked for my advances, and yet I've forced them on you. It is an abuse that I never fallen to, until now, but you… Lyna, ask me to leave, I will go if you command it, the Crows will overwhelm you I know this, but I haven't the strength to leave on my own, not this time."

"You can go… if you really want, but I wish you- I _want _you to stay. Let the Crows come. I won't abandon you to them. As for…" Lyna swallowed, choking down her embarrassment. "I was… really kind of thankful you took initiative, seeing as I didn't have to actually _ask."_

Something more like his mischievous, roguish smile crossed his lips this time, and she couldn't look him in the eyes. "I only- I didn't want you to feel… obligated? Obligated. I… I know where I stand. I'm not stunningly beautiful like my cousin Mithra, or even Morrigan or Leliana. I'm cute, I guess, but no one wants… someone who looks more like a little sister then a woman."

Zevran frowned shifting forward and reaching out a hand to touch her chin. His fingers slid to the back of her head, and the tight coil her hair was kept in. Confused, Lyna didn't protest as he undid the bun and smoothed out the braids, letting her hair spill out in waves over her shoulders. Her hair was long, brushing her waist and she'd always loved it, but fear of it being butchered by a stray blade kept it tightly pinned up almost all the time. He ran his fingers through her hair reverently.

"It had fallen down in the water the other day," He told her softly. "You hadn't noticed for fear over me and then weakened by your magic. You lay there, drained with no care that the man who tried to kill you less than a month before sat next to you. You told me you trusted me. Told me you were glad I was by your side, even read my own thoughts as I _had_ contemplated abandoning _etos pequeño drappello._"

His forehead rest against hers though his eyes lingered on the curve of her mouth rather than the emerald green of her eyes. "You say no one has ever told you you are beautiful-"

"I never…"

"In the inn of that small town. You stopped before you finished, but this is what you intended to say. It is not true. I know I have said it and I am not in the habit of lying. You tell me you are only thought of as a child, a sister and I disagree. You do not show this often," his hand tangled in the lengths of hair drawing the locks across his cheek. "And, _Sì__, __sei__carina. _You are cute, _preciosa_ even. I have long thought so, thought your eyes lovely, your smile beautiful. But," He tucked the shorter locks behind her ears, pulled it forward over one shoulder and let it spill down her chest. "You do not give yourself enough credit."

His lips met hers in a gentle kiss, and Lyna's arms finally figured out what to do with themselves as they wrapped around Zevran's neck. She melted in his kiss and he burned her with her touch through her armor, she made little sounds of shocked pleasure. She was sinking, gently pushed back with Zevran's strong arms keeping her from falling too fast. Lyna shifted only slightly feeling something hard press against her thigh. It snapped her mind back, but only partly. With an amused chuckle he had her mindless again with his touch and his lips.

It was he that moved her hands, placing them against his sides. "I should not have all the fun," he whispered. She was unexperienced, unsure as her hand glided over the light leather armor. His deft hands already finding the weakness in hers sliding below and warming her skin with his callused touch. She didn't recall him removing the gloves, but he must have. His lips trailed down her neck giving her a light nibble that brought a pleasant sound to his ears. Another lick and nibble brought him down her collar bone and he forced the leathers aside the top of her breast reaching up to meet him as she breathed when-

"Hey Lyna, are you out here?"

"Uh… Alistair…" The Dalish below him mumbled in a daze. The somewhere above them the human gasped as something broke and he crashed into Maker knew what. "He's going to kill himself."

Zevran gnashed his teeth, her attention on him alone lost with the bumbling human. "_De tutti los_…"

"I should- um." Lyna blushed unable to meet his gaze as she scrambled out from under him and too her feet. She was gone an instant later and Zevran swore under his breath.

"Lyna!" He heard Alistair say a moment later. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah. Fine." Her voice stuttered he could see the way she nervously sifted from foot to foot in his head.

"You're hair is down." Alistair's voice was almost bewildered. "It- looks nice."

They talked, but the assassin wasn't listening after that. Zevran waited until they were out of elven earshot before his fist hit the ground. _"Braska."_

Elvish;  
emma vhenan; _My heart  
_Da'lynamelana; _little spring time  
_Ma nuvenin; _as you wish  
_Ma sarennas_; thank you  
_da'riel_; Little rain  
_Ir abelas_; (lit. I am filled with sorrow) I am sorry  
_Dareth Shiral_; (lit. safe journey) Good bye  
_elvarel'din_; (lit. __more_ _effort_, _not)_ _No_ _more_ _effort(/pain)  
_In uthenera na revas;_ In waking dream is freedom__  
_Na dar'bora, Da'len?; _(lit. Is to be lost, little child) Are you lost, little one?  
_Ar Falon, an na mamae?; _(lit. I friend, location/place your mother?) I'm a friend, where is your mother?_  
elvhen_; (lit. Our heart) name of the Elven race  
_Mamae isala hamin'in; _(lit. Mother in need of rest inside)_  
Mythal'enaste; _Literally, I don't know. There's no translation for this other than Mythal being of the elven gods. Hazarding a guess, besides the obvious 'ena' means 'appear' so it could be along the lines of Mythral come to me/show me the way/guide me  
_Elvenan_; (Lit. our hearts) Name for the ancient elven civilization  
_Felas da'asha; _(lit. Slow little woman) Stupid girl_

_Antivan;  
_etos pequeño drappello_ (butchery); this little squad/group  
_Si, sei carina_ (Italian); Yes, you are cute.  
_Preciosa_ (Spanish); lovely  
De tutti los... (butchery); of all the…_

_As of This moment, Lyna's full name is Lynamelana Mahariel. (The rain that comes (in the) springtime). :) I'm amused._

_Gatekeeper, Guardian, same thing. I like Guardian better, gives him more purpose. Do any of you have beautiful Cousins like Mithra? I do. It's very depressing, my self-esteem is never in the toilet unless they are around and I hate that I hate being around them. XD _


	11. Chapter 11

_This chapter. Oh man. You can all thank Aki for all the randomness of this chapter and for a lot of the dialogue. I don't do dialogue, I think this is established. So, if you like tell me so I can tell her (Or, you know, she might be a creeper who reads other people's reviews, so you can tell her directly by reviewing –hinthint-). :)_

_I… I really apologize. It was funny, I had to leave it all in (you'll see)._

_For the record, while I will endeavor not to allow long lags between updates, as you can see I've been quite busy. Most of my free time has been redirected to school, and also the fact that I'll be moving in about a month. I'm still striving for weekly updates, but life takes priority, mores the pity._

* * *

"Your hairs down," Alistair mumbled, turning his gaze away. "It- looks nice."

"Mm. Thanks." Lyna replied, still trying to smooth out her armor and hair and think of a plausible excuse why she was so disheveled. Nothing came to mind, other than the obvious. She could just say she was down there playing with wolf pups, it certainly wound be the first time. "Why were you out here?"

The former Templar sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh you know. Morrigan and Wynne decided to go out it again. It was starting to get a bit… heated."

"Can't they at least pretend to get along?" Lyna sighed, rolling her eyes as they walked back towards camp.

"You know Morrigan is too stubborn for that." There was a smirk to Alistair's voice, but Lyna was too busy staring at the ground to confirm or deny that.

"Doesn't sound like anything I'm up for dealing with right now." Lyna sighed, for what must have been the third time. How could people with such opposite personalities possibly come together as they had? Desperation was the only answer. Alistair himself had said as much when Lyna had decided the man who had just tried to kill them was going to come along, though he had put it far more colorfully. Of all of them, Lyna was less worried of an _assassin_ then the kindly old mage and the swamp witch, though the latter did foster a fair bit of apprehension. "It's nice having them around, but sometimes I wonder…"

"Wonder what?" Lyna shrugged, and then kicked a stone out of her way with the tip of her boot.

"If this is what it would have been like with other wardens about. You were recruited before I was, did you ever met them?"

"Oh right, I guess even if was only a few months, I was with them longer then you were. You never got the chance to see us all together." Lyna shook her head. In fact the only _official_ Wardens she did meet were him and Duncan. "It… They were kind of like an extended family, we had no one else but each other, the price of being a Warden is to be cut off from your old lives."

A faint smile crossed her face, so it was normal for a Warden to feel out of place even in a place where they should feel peace. At least she had conformation that it was normal. The joining wasn't just about drinking some darkspawn blood; it really did change you. "Was it hard?"

A nostalgic smile crossed Alistair's face; his head leaning back to gaze up at the stars. "No, no, we laughed more than you'd think. Once when- ah, do you really want to hear about people you've never met?"

"Oh come on, you can't start a story and just give up like that," Lyna grumped with a frown.

Alistair chucked. "Okay, there was this one Warden from the Anderfels, his name was… Gregor? Grigor? Anyway, he was a burly man with the biggest fuzziest bearded you have ever seen."

"Better than the caterpillar on Greagoir's face?" Lyna asked with a laugh. Alsitiar laughed too, so hard that he had to stop and brace himself against a tree for fear of falling, his hand on his gut.

"No, Greagori would give this guy a run for his coin, but his was still better," He said after a moment, rubbed his chin as he thought. "Anyway, the man could drink. He was always drinking, but never got drunk. Finally we all made a pool to find out how many pints it would take to get him sloshed."

Clearly enjoying herself, Lyna egged him on. "Wow, how many?"

"That's the funny part, we never found out. He drank a pint for every half the rest of us drank, and he was still going long after the rest of us passed out! I heard Duncan walked in later to find him still drinking and the rest of us out cold from one end of the hall to the other. He laughed so hard… he nearly… nearly…" His voice caught in his throat and suddenly everything was so much dimmer, the humor was gone.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to…"

The former Templar shook his head. "It's just I have… nothing to remember him by. No token to… carry with me. This must sound stupid."

"I don't have anything either. Not of-" She bit her lip and turned away. No, not now, not _him_. Alistair didn't miss it and possible the sad look on his face ten-folded.

"You've lost people too. I'm being selfish. I… I-I was thinking-" He began and then rubbed the back of his neck. Lyna frowned trying to follow his train of thoughts. "I might have seen a bit of Zathrian's funeral when I wasn't supposed to. I didn't know the Dalish buried their dead."

Lyna nodded slowly, her eyes on the ground. She couldn't mention the tree she'd already planted in Duncan's honor. "We plant a tree over their remains, as a way for them to live on."

_He_ would never get a tree. Lyna hadn't been able to find him, but Duncan had sworn he was lost for good. It hurt more that she would never _really _be able to visit the place of his rest. The tree her clan planted might serve as his gravestone, but she could never touch its bark and feel him there. It was for the living that they went through the motion of devotion, to give them a measure of hope and peace in the face of tragedy, she'd come to this conclusion long ago, had even thought it verbatim on more than one occasion. It felt so stupid some times; the belief that a loved one would live on in the heart of a tree, but Lyna was living and needed to feel that connection, someway, even knowing the truth behind the actions.

Her life was scattered with empty trees.

That's absolutely lovely…" Alistair didn't seem to notice her melancholy, or maybe he did and simply could do nothing else then barrel on with his original point. "Watching, it got me thinking… I know you didn't know him all that well, but he was… More than just a mentor to me…"

Maybe Lyna would have felt the same, given time. She had already been willing to live and die by the word of the man, and he had been so kind to her when they left her clan. The creators, the maker, whatever gods above didn't see fit to give her the chance. "He was a good man Alistair, even when he didn't need to be he was kind to me. I respected, and if I could have been by his side…" She shook her head at the thought; she had wanted to be there. Maybe between the three of them there would have been a chance that…

"If _we_ could have been by his side _we'd_ both be dead..." Alistair said with a sigh reading her thoughts to the letter.

An unamused laugh crossed her lips, yes, the point was moot, but she bumped her shoulder against his arm. "Actually, I seem to be pretty good at feats of absolute stupid luck."

"I'll say." A flash of a smile, but the mirth could not hold in such a dower conversation. They walked for a while, quietly, neither one sure with what to break the suddenly silence with. Finally, Alistair sighed for what had to be the hundredth time. "…I don't think he had any family… but he mentioned he came from Highever. Maybe… after all this is over I can have a proper funeral for him, if we're still alive."

They would still be alive. Lyna would like to honor him in the traditions of his own people, not just in the Dalish's way. She couldn't care less what the humans thought of _her,_ but Duncan did not deserve the slander the name of the Wardens had been given. He was a good man, to the end. "I could come with you, if you'd like."

"I… I would. Like that." He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. Lyna wasn't sure why, but a thought crossed her mind the moment they entered camp.

"Hey! I have an idea." To his protest, she grabbed his arm, whisking him across the camp to where the Dalish kept large wooden casks. On the way she grabbed too wooden cups, and they were quickly filled with golden colored spirits. She held up one cup for him to take, she bit her lip, trying not to ruin the moment by getting the semantics wrong. "Here. Cheers, right? To Duncan?"

Alistair seemed stunned for a long moment before a smile spread across his face. He took his glass, but paused, thinking on the words to the toast

"To those we've lost," He said, and Lyna couldn't help her own smile as he clicked the wooden cup against hers and took a swig. Alistair was surprised by the taste; it was sweet and felt almost like syrup going down his throat. He was tempted to say there was no kick to it, until it finally did kick and he coughed at the sudden burn. "What is this stuff?"

"Dalish Honey Whiskey," She said with a grin. It didn't seem to bother her at all, but then, she had known what it was beforehand and expected it. "Can't get normal sugar out here you know, what's hard is making the bees share."

Alistair snorted a laugh.

They sat down, sitting side by side on a wooden log. A smaller cask of whiskey followed them so they didn't have to keep stumbling over to the barrels. "I'm surprised the Dalish have anything like this at all, isn't it hard to brew whiskey when you're wondering about?"

"My clan doesn't. We're too small, but the _Rheaeni_ clan is bigger and spends a lot more time in these forests, they can take the time. Some of the other clans specialize in…" She snapped her fingers in thought shook her head and poured herself another glass. "Brandy? -I _think_- it's made out of fruit. They were using some kind of Orlias word… Eae-tu-vee? Or maybe I'm getting it mixed up with the _tuica_ stuff. Hum, I can't remember."

Alistair frowned disapprovingly at her actions. "Careful there, Lyna. You're too tiny to be able to drink much of this."

"Oh hush up. I've been drinking this longer then you have." Lyna snorted, and then tried hard not to giggle. No need to mention it had only been last season when some of Sabrae clan had traded goods with _Rheaeni_ that she had been allowed to sample the whiskey. That hadn't ended well.

He gave her a skeptical look, but didn't ask and instead replied with, "That sounds like a challenge, milady."

"Ah, I know I'll lose, but to the void, you're on." Almost like he was trying to prove a point, Alistair filled his own glass and down the hard drink, smacking the glass upside down on the log they were making use of. It promptly slipped off the rounded surface and fell in the mud.

Lyna busted up laughing.

"An' look at you, swearing like a good old dignified Ferelden maiden. You've grown so much. It makes me proud. Brings a tear to the eyes you know." Mockingly, he rubbed at one eye with the tip of his finger, a fake proud smile on his face.

"I know what I said, but I'm not _that_ young!" Lyna huffed, her face beginning to flush from the alcohol.

"Yeah, keep saying that. One day maybe you'll convince us." She opened her mouth to reply, but the only things that came to mind were more fitting for Zevran to say. Damn that Antivan for the things he put into her head.

"Your silence is a rhapsodic confirmation of my statement!" The other warden picked up the wooden cup, waving it in his hand as he pointed at her with a pinky before filling it and taking a long quaff.

"Rhas-a whata- pah?" She stumbled over the words, unsure if she could have repeated the word even if she was sober. Oh, how many pints had she had now? It was hard to remember, but too many seemed like a decent answer. "Are you speaking in code now?"

"Not really. But that does give me a funny idea." Alistair grinned. Stupidly. He _stupidly_ grinned.

Lyna gave a snort, into her pint. There was still some whiskey in her cup and she finished it without a thought. "Of course. There's always time and space for comedy with you."

"Oh," he said, his pint magically filling on its own. Of course, it wasn't magic, but she couldn't remember him filling it and she _had_ been watching. Honest. "Is not for the purpose of me laughing with you, Is for making me laugh at you."

"I _can_ say this; ya'are far from outdoin' yer'self this time." Her Dalish dialect came out strong when she didn't purposely try to enunciate. She rolled her eyes, but that made her dizzy, she had to stop the world from flying away by grabbing the table. Oh look, her cup was magically full too.

"Well, I haven't even begun trying. Just you wait, missy." He grinned it was stupid again, maybe mischievous. She tried to look skeptical, but she was pretty sure that looked stupid too, but she tired anyway.

"Let me know when it's comin'. I'll just sit here nursin' ma whiskey." Magic whiskey. But that was a secret.

He gave a snort, nope, must have been stupid looking she hid her frown in her cup. Honey whiskey, why did you have to taste so good? "Then I'd better hurry. Soon your head is going to hug the table."

Lyna flailed her arms, almost knocking her cup over. She caught it, and nearly knocked it over again. Hah! Take that gravity. "A'right. Let's bet on it. I wager yer'll be face-down and piss-drunk before I even get a little dizzy."

"Well, that's a switch. Didn't you say were going to lose?" Arg, why was Alistair's skeptical look better then hers? Wasn't fair.

"I said what? I said no such thing," Lyna muttered. What glass was this? Three? Four? No, three. Maybe. Too many, that sounded like a good answer, but it was _so_ good. Part of her remembered what happened last time, the other part had locked the first part in a little and didn't care.

Alistair chuckled. This was… his forth, maybe. "Good sign. You're already falling into the sweet old buzz."

The Dalish waved his comment off. "If I know how to do one thing, it's getting up each time I fall."

How he under stood her was a mystery, she was sure that came out gibberish, it certainly sounded like it to her ears. "Well that's full of subtlety. But even so, I can see that. I think we all see it and we don't say it."

Lyna couldn't help but be confused. "Don't say wot, now?"

The senior warden cleared his throat. "Well... how can I put it? Let make try an allegory."

"Oh! Allegory is when... when… _wheeeen…_" As if such an action actually helps, Lyna tapped the side of her head, trying to free the memory from the spider webs that had trapped it.

"Less- _Let's_ imagine," he said, waving his hand about in front of him. "A house on fire. And there's a child inside. And it's full of-" he paused a moment digging through his muddled mind for the words as his hands spun circles in the air before him. "_Spiders_ and _trolls_ and... it also _haunted_."

"Okay spyders an' trolls in a haunted house… wot do I do now?" That actually sounded like fun.

He stopped to slam back another cup full of whiskey, Lyna giggled. He must like the taste, she knew she did; in fact it was about time for another. "There're two kinds of people. There're the ones 'o simply run to the 'ills and say 'it's not _my_ soddin' problem' and there're those 'o will march right in wi'out a care for their own safety because they want to…" Alistair paused a moment to clear his throat and give his head a shake. "Want to save that one soul, the one who doesn't deserve it. But they do it, even if it's dangerous. Even if'n means dying."

"So… saying 'm crazy an' careless?"

Alistair laughed softly, shaking his head slowly. "Crazy, may'e, but not careless. What I _mean_ is that you're the secon' kind of person, at least as far as I have seen. You help even when you don' need to, you fight. That's wut- what a Warden does. You're strong; you fall, you get back up."

Lyna shrugged. She certainly thought she was crazy and careless, diving head first into things she didn't comprehend, just because it _sounded_ stupid didn't mean that wasn't the way the world worked. "Thou'ht Duncan says we're not suppos' to get into problems."

"If it's not Warden… stuff, sure, but we need help. Could have taken the easy way an' helped the Templars wiht their Rite of Annulment, but you didn'. Could have assept-ed Zathrian at his word and kill the werewolves without a thou'ht, but you didn' do that either." Lyna sighed, and made it a point to pretend to be overly interested in her cup. She was sheltered, she knew that, but damn if she was going to stand aside and let things go just because the majority thought it the common norm. Course, she couldn't find the words proper for all that. The drink in her hand helped. "Is hard, but is okay. We cahn- can do it."

The Dalish shook he head; this was far too serious a chat for what they were drinking. "Ish too easy… we cahnt do it all."

"May'e, but I think it's pos- posssible. If anyon' can bull'ead their way through it, I cah- cahn see you doin' it."

Oh look, there was still some whiskey in her cup, better drink that now and fill 'er back up. "Mm, speaking of-of bullheadedness, what about this Arl... Arl Amon? Person-guy that we plan to go see?"

"Oh yes, Arl Eamon. He's ... he's a helluva good guy, Arl Eamon is." Alistair cough, struggling with the nob on the table-casket. "A helluva good guy. Great guy, yeah. Yeah, he'd give you the clothes off his back. Right off his back, any time you ask. Nice guy, you know what I mean?"

"How-how do you kno…" Lyna trailed off, smacking her lips.

The man gave a snort, waving his cup and spilling some whiskey into the small fire before them, the flames leaped greedily at the alcohol and both wardens jumped back with a startled laugh. "Ish not a political secret. Lotsa people in Ferelden think hes a- a helluva good guy."

"Bah," Lyna said waving her own cup but managing to keep her liquor from the fire's grasp "You an' yer human lords. The Dalish don' have any intresht in that… stuff."

"I undershtand. Kinda bugs me though, a little, jusht a little. Why such stress put in our differenshees? Our hearts bet jusht the shame, we come from the shame flesh and blood, no mahter our race. We leave… life an breathe jusht'shame and-an- I mean, we all dyeh… Thatsh what I mean, y'nkough?" He turned looking Lyna dead in the eye, his gaze dead serious with drunken haze. "We all dyeh."

The man swayed his eyes going opaque and his mouth moving soundlessly to whatever words he was trying to add to their brilliant conversation.

"Alisthar? You okay?" The little Dalish asked somewhere between worried and confused, she poked him in the stomach and the man jumped nearly ten feet in the air.

"**I'm** okay!" He shouted looking around dizzily as if afraid someone had seen the display.

"Alisthar," Lyna giggled, "There's drool on yer face."

Bewildered, Alistair rubbed at his chin whipping away a thin trail of drool with the back of his hand to a choir of laughter that came from one Dalish.

"Thass right, honey, thass exactly wut I'm talkin' 'bout. Talkin'." She turned to him, her own eyes opaque.

"_Honey?_" Alistair blinked, his head tilting in confusion.

Lyna seemed equally confused. "Are you talking to me or the whiskey?"

"Well... ihs de whishkey talkin' back? Maker's breaff, maybe dere's a demon in yer cup." Alistair swayed forward knocking the mug clean out of Lyna's hand with a slap. "Avert your eyes!"

Lyna stared blankly as the last of her whiskey soaked into the dirt. "Hey! Why you do dis?!" "Mean-meany durnk."

"_No_." The other warden replied, his eyes drooping. "I'm adhorible. Adorhabowl. Ador-... Ah, whatever."

Lyna broke into laughter. She laughed so hard she slipped off the log fell into the dirt with a thump and a whine. "Oww."

Ever the Knight, even when drunk out of his mind, Alistiar tries to help her back up, but only managed to fall to the ground with her. They stayed like that, laughing like loons.

"Isha good thin' I gotts-da mighty King Calanhad here to shwoop me off my foot." Lyna snickered, thinking herself very clever, peering at her dirty cup with envy.

"You mean off your feet." He corrected his cup long forgotten.

The Dalish shrugged. "Shwoop me off ma' feets."

"Shwopping is _bad_."

She laughed. "Not if it's King-ing Cowinhat."

Alistair snorted. "Oh I shee wut you did there! _Cow- in-hat_."

Lyna thought for a moment, and grinned. "Wehll... _we're_ drunk."

" We were dunk about 6 pints ago... Now we're... bef... buff... beffuddhl-." Alistair pivoted, slumping over to the side and directly on top of Lyna who squeaked and whined as his weight slowly began to crush her. Just as she thought she'd be stuck there (and that it was nicer when Zevran did that) he sat up suddenly and pulled away, then rested his back against the log.

"Oh! Shorry… nesht time... nesht time we do dis…" His head fell back and his mouth hung open the words only coming out as a snore, out cold.

"Yaah." Lyna replied, pulling her legs up to her chest, crossed her arms over her knees and rested her head in the crock. "Thts a gud idea…"

* * *

It was a fine mess he had gotten himself into.

Zevran was always charming, so insufferable that he fell into bed with someone in a regular basis. It was just how things worked for him, his luck. Pushing and shoving, this wasn't how he did things; everything would come to him and he'd accept what the fates had brought him without batting an eye. He wasn't one to question or ask for more. He was happy with what he was given, and always expected nothing more.

Yet, push and shove was exactly what he'd been doing with the little Dalish girl they called their leader.

It wasn't like him at all, but he understood her nature better than she did. She wouldn't be the one to broach the subject, never be the one to initiate anything; she was too shy, too inexperienced to even know how. Most of his comments went over her head and those that didn't, the ones that were far risqué even coming from him had her blushing red and stuttering for words. She did not know what to say, what to do, was stunned by the mere thought of anything.

Even still, this shy little inexperienced Dalish girl had Zevran, master of charm wrapped around her little finger, and had no idea.

He was aware of this, and it was not in an emotional way, no. Zevran didn't have room in his life for such things, didn't even know what they felt like in all honesty. He needed her. He needed her strength at his side. Yes, young, naive as she was, she had strength. There was strength in her character, strength in her blade arm and in her bow. He needed these things, needed her to stand beside him if and when the crows come. Part of him still feared that she would cast him out, despite her words to the contrary. There was this lingering dread that she would find him too much trouble for what he was worth. He had stretched the truth after all, to say nothing about his over barring character; he hadn't really known how to pick locks even if the point was mooted by her own skill. He had learned hers not to be a gift of the fade, and had wondered long on what use a Dalish would have for such a skill.

It was the trap in the fade that had begun him on this strange path against his nature. Tears shed on his behalf, but what for? He pondered the subject nightly, but couldn't approach it openly, the topic was too close to things he didn't understand and he found himself on her end, unable to voice words to the things put before him. He had to find the reason, the cause.

Zevran had to know where he stood, and knew it would never be her, he'd gone to extremes out of his own element. If he touched her and she didn't protects he would take it as a sign that she accepted those advancements as if she'd put words to it, there would have been no other way for there to be something more if he had gone his usual route. He had to be the one, for he had to know. He'd been wary of the fact that in doing so, he may hasten the fate he'd been trying to avoid.

What had he been thinking? He had to ask himself, and didn't have an answer. She drew him to her without even trying. Wide eyes made her look childish, smiles made her look _preciosa_, and on the rare occasions he caught her with her hair down and relaxed those wide eyes and sweet smiles gave her a beauty she didn't realize she had. He had fought tooth and nail, he thought, trying to hold her to him, trying to have her wrapped to him just as he was to her. Yes, he was intent on using her, but he was not a manner of monster that would cast her aside when he was done. No, it was Zevran was a _tool_, something to be used and cast aside when it no longer served a purpose not the other way around. He was well aware and accepting of the fact, this was why he needed her to need _him_ so badly.

He needed to be firmly set to her side when his old masters came. She could use him as long as she saw fit, and he would take as much joy out of it as she would allow. When the time came that she no longer had use of him, they would part and neither would be worse for the wear, he only needed to be sure that parting was done after he was free of the crows, if that was even possible. These were the only thing he knew, killing and love-making and witty retorts; those were the things he was best at. He had no other way, and it was never to be Lyna who would act first, so he did.

So yes, he pushed, almost out of character, but it had to be done and they both stumbled through unfamiliar territory together. He had managed to string a thought together, personal and deep and voice it to her; it had been the hardest thing he'd done yet. It was only a small fraction of his thoughts that night, but she had squashed it easily, too easily. She was determined to keep him by her side, even when he had all but asked to leave.

As for the liberties he had been taking, half of him knew she enjoyed it, but for her to thank him for not requiring her courage to blunder into it… This, he feared was where he'd gone wrong, though he said no such thing. It stung that she thought him putting on airs for her benefit, and yet, it had stung her even more to admit what she thought as her own short comings. Zevran could not believe no one had ever told her what seemed so obvious to him and even Alistair though the former Templar blundered in the dark just as much as Lyna did.

The clan life of these Dalish, it was like being with one's family, Zevran mused, and so he told her. He told her what he saw when he looked at her, tried to find the words in the trade tongue for her uniqueness, and succeeded and failed at the same time. She hadn't believed, not truly, he could see it in her eyes even as he kissed her, even as his hand slipped under her armor to feel the softness of her alabaster skin. Coming from him there was always a shred of disbelief and Zevran would accept it without fault. Not even Lyna was completely immune to the weight of his past, he could not ask for more then what she'd already accepted from him. It was more than most others cared to even humor. True or not, belief or no, she was ready to accept what the fates would give her, and he found they were more alike than he'd realized.

Of course the fates were cruel, cruel things with no hearts and a wicked laugh and had sent Alistair in to ruin any chance of what Zevran had wanted. He saw the thought flicker across her face, they could stay quiet, long enough for the former Templar to move on and continue were they left off. Lyna had come back to her mind, her eyes had gone frightened, her cheeks red with embarrassment. She thought it, but couldn't do it and instead bolted like a rabbit.

Did she regret going as far as she had with him? Had he finally pushed her to the limits of her tolerance? Her words could not be trusted; words lie and she was always too kind. She would lie without intending, only to spare his feelings, had he any to begin with. It was downright hilarious, the one whom he relied on to protect him from the darkest pieces of the world feared a little intimacy, was too sweet to say no. This had been the reason for his uncharacteristic-ness to begin with.

"Braska." He snarled his fist hitting dirt and stones a second time.

How would have things gone had Alistair not blundered his way to their secluded hide away, aside from the obvious? Would it have broken more ties then made? He could not keep this up, could not keep forcing things to move faster than she was comfortable with. It had been necessary to a point, but that was done now. Lyna knew where he stood, even if she had to be shown the hard way and she now knew how far _she_ wanted to take it. It was just a matter of her coming to him. From now on he could be patient.

Zevran sighed. It had been long hours he'd sat under this old tree, finally free of the ache the Dalish had left him with. It had only been her that came looking for him, under the presence of needing time alone as well, though that might have been partly true. This like so many other reasons had the assassin shaking his head and following her so willingly.

Finally he stood, dusting the dirt of his leathers and headed back to camp.

He hadn't expected what he found. Wardens out cold in front of a small fire, half empty mugs and a table-side cask of some kind of spirit having kept them company that night. Alistair lay with his back against the log, his mouth hanging open ringing with a snore that would wake the dead. Lyna, ever innocent, her arms crossed over her knees sleeping peacefully even in what couldn't have been a comfortable position for her back. To think she spent the better part of her life sleeping like this, or on rock and stone. A massage would do her wonders, he thought, Zevran had his work cut out for him, if she'd even accept his offer.

"All this walking and fighting," He mumbled to himself and tsked hit tongue loudly. Wasn't he not a moment ago telling himself he had to be patient? Even as much as he'd intend to keep it innocent, he doubted he could resist temptation once he had his hands on her. These things she did to him, and she hadn't even a clue.

He picked up a cup out of curiosity and poured a taste. It was rich and full bodied, sweet and a little thick with a taste like wild honey and a hint of spice. It was something more like what they made in Antiva, not like this watered down piss-beer the Fereldens seemed to enjoy. No wonder Lyna had disliked any alcohol in the town they'd stayed in, though she'd made a brave effort in trying it.

Cider, she might enjoy that, though even Ferelden with all their apple trees made poor cider as they did everything, it seemed. It was a shame none of them had thought if it before.

Knowing he wasn't going to just leave her to sleep it off out here, the city-elf scooped up her tiny form into his arms and carried her back towards the far side of the Dalish camp were the others had set up their own tents. Her head rested heavily against his chest and she gave the faintest sigh of contentment. The things she did, and didn't even know.

He was only mildly surprised to find Sten, ever pragmatic, keeping guard. The assassin didn't even bother to ask why, the answer would be something ridiculously logical. "Ah, good, Sten, you are still awake. Would you mind dragging Alistair back to his own tent? Seems these two had a bit of fun this night and are going to regret it in the morning."

The bronze-skinned giant frowned, or maybe that was a thoughtful look it was hard to tell; his expression rarely changed. "Unwise. We are leaving the elves at dawn."

Zevran chucked at that. "Might be a little later then dawn my friend, but as long as they are up and walking, who is to complain."

Another thoughtful pause from the Qunari, apparently Zevran was logical enough for he responded with, "I will retrieve him."

"Good man." With Alistair in capable hands he took Lyna to her own tent. He was half a moment away from helping her out of her leathers before his mind caught up to his actions. No, that would be a bad idea. He was never one to take advantage of someone who had fallen into their cup, but he was also a man and it was better not to walk down that path at all then risk what may lie at the end. Instead he made sure she rested on her side, just in case, tucked her gently into her bed roll and left her be.

"Zev," she sighed in her sleep just as he was turning to leave. He paused for a long moment, and was on the verge of thinking she had nothing more to say when she spoke again. "Sorry… Zev… shouldn't have… left."

"You can apologize to me when you are sober, Lyna."

"Shouldn't… have…" She sighed again and fell back into a deep sleep.

* * *

She couldn't remember how she'd gotten back to her tent. She also didn't know why she was even awake before the crack of dawn after spending half the night drinking with her fellow Warden. What Lyna did know is that Alistair was about two drinks ahead of her four when she blacked out, and she had a raging headache. She stumbled over to where Morrigan was already beginning the morning break-fast and sat down in front of the merry fire, silently cursing it for its merriness in the face of her misery. "Got any tea?"

"That was rather foolish of the two of you." The witch replied even as she pulled the dried leaves from her pouch and mixed them into the hot water that was already steaming. Lyna smiled, for all her words, Morrigan didn't let her suffer for her _foolishness._ They sat quietly, Morrigan because she liked it that way and Lyna because even the slightest sound aggravated her headache. Once the tea was done Morrigan handed her a cup. It was soothing in the cold and was already reliving the pounding in her head, the wooden mug warming her un-gloved hands. "You do know this is all a wily game of his."

"Huh? Who- _what?" _The Dalish stuttered, Alistair? The man didn't know the first thing about being wily.

"Zevran." Oh, him. Much like the assassin, the witch didn't miss much. Morrigan might not be versed in the nuances of human culture, but she was sharp as hawk, as sly as a fox and had probably been both those creatures and more on more than one occasion. "He is attempting to get in the good graces of the person who decides whether he is to live or die and the one who would protect him from his former comrades."

"He's already been in my… good graces." Lyna replied with a frown, not sure if the word still carried the implied meaning when she repeated it. "I don't understand what you mean."

Morrigan looked unamused, fixing with a hard glare of her golden eyes. "'Tis not inconceivable that you are drawn to him, he _is_ rather skilled and handsome, but you should be weary of what choice you make. Tis not only demons who deceive in this world; men do it all the same and are far better at get away with it. While'st noble of you to presume his innocence until proven otherwise, did _he_ not prove that first day just how skilled he is at saying exactly what our group needs to hear?"

Making sense of her words was too hard on the Dalish's pounding head. For once Lyna wished the witch would just come out and say what she was thinking. "Are you saying he's lying to us?"

Her eyes had drifted to the Zevran's tent her gaze never leaving it even as she spoke. "All I am saying is it would be unwise for you to dwell into such dangerous territory. Keeping watch over him is enough. Befriending him, may 'haps be even better, for it might give us the advantage of switching who he's loyal to, but do not doubt that loyalty still likes with his masters. He might laugh and run free, but his mind and his body still belong to the one world he has ever known and that was one where he took orders from those that own him, whatever their will."

"But if-" Morrigan cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"Of course, you're thinking if you show him what 'friendship' is you will give him the illusion of safety and trust that he will otherwise not recognize, given his past, but such a thing is risky and if you ask me, tis far too complicated given our current affairs. You do not have time for such things." She paused for a long moment, tapping a finger against her knee, her eyes still on Zevran's tent. Lyna wondered if she was somehow keeping the keen elf from hearing the conversation. "Do not forget that he far more skilled than you and most everyone gathered in speech and deceiving. If you fall prey to this illusion of safekeeping and aura of sudden… _goodwill_ he has, as if he is atoning for his sins by helping you ...we may all wake up on the morrow with our throats cut."

Lyna found her cup far more interesting than the world around her. She couldn't deny the truth in Morrigan's words, but she also couldn't treat Zevran as the tool he was so accustomed to being used as. It wasn't in her to play him along; for Lyna it was all or nothing, and that went for every member of their little clan.

"If I don't take him at his word, Morrigan, who will? You may be right, but his word is all he has… I…" Lyna sighed, lost for words for what she wanted to explain. The value of words were engrained in her being, all the Dalish had were words of their past, so little existed from _Arlathan_ that was physical. Lyna was not naive to the way one could deceive with a smile, and she was not so innocent to think he, or any of their group were to be taken at face value. "Any of you. I have to trust what you say; you can't claim that even you do not hiding things, Morrigan …but thank you, it's nice to know someone else is looking out for me."

Lyna might have been mistaken, but Morrigan, for a fraction of a moment, may have just cracked an honest smile at her words. "I am just thinking ahead, Warden. Do what you will with my advice, I care not."

They were to leave for Redcliffe as soon as everyone was awake, just as Lyna had promised Alistair. She was morose to leave, but at the same time she couldn't wait. This clan was not _her_ clan, _her_ family, and yet so close it opened a wound that had not quite healed in her heart.

To think part of her was grateful to be away from the Dalish and with her haphazard group.

* * *

Lyna had long since made a habit of not participating when the others fell into discussion about religion. Too hard, she finally decided one night and stopped trying. It did not fit with her views, and it was easier to not ask and not tell. Listening though, Lyna could listen quietly pick up little ideas and store them away until she had a whole picture. It was better, easier than trying to bumble through a discussion, trying to decide what would prick a devout human, and what would be taken at face.

So, when the group sat down for the evening meal and Leliana started up the topic with Alistair, the Dalish pretended to be absorbed in waxing her bow string. She had to bite her lip when the former Templar spoke of screaming randomly just to see the panicked faces on the brothers. It was horribly childish, and in all honesty Lyna didn't find it funny at all. Leliana glanced her way, so Lyna wasn't completely successful in hiding the snort, and probably read it the wrong way, but she didn't pay them any mind and the conversation moved on.

Alistair turned to the assassin, an eye raised to the sky in his direction. "What about you Zevran, I can't imagine you being very religious. Not in your line of work, right?"

"Why do you say this? I happen to be very devout in my own way, as most Antivans are." The assassin looked mildly amused at his words, which Lyna was beginning to suspect was a cover for actually being annoyed. Zevran never let anything get to him at least on the outside, but Lyna had to wonder. He put on airs no matter what, but he hadn't spoken to her, not really anyway, since they'd left the Dalish a few days ago. Lyna had been working on getting up the nerve to apologize, or at least speak to him herself, but it always failed her. On top of it all, Morrigan's warning rang heavy in her ears.

The senior warden had a look like he bit into something horribly sour. "But… you're an assassin, you kill for a living. For _Money_."

"Yes, and I ask the Maker's forgiveness whenever I am given the chance." Zevran scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "What manner of monster do you think of me as?"

Alistair's fork clattered into his bowl, making Lyna twitch at the loud sound and glance up at the two. The man had the decency to shoot her an apologetic look, but his mind didn't linger there long enough as he said, "You ask forgiveness, but then you go right on sinning!"

"The Maker has yet to voice complaint, why should you?" Zevran asked and did nothing to hide the pompous smirk. He knew he had Alistair pinned.

The former Templar stuttered his half sounds for almost a full minute, trying to piece any semblance of a rebuttal together. Finally he shook his head, his shoulders slumping. "I… have no idea."

"Maybe you ought to ask for some forgiveness yourself, hum?" Alistair grumbled under his breath before standing up suddenly.

"I'm going to bed," he grumbled before stalking off to his own tent. "Wake me up for my watch."

The night waned, and the others drifted off to their tents. Lyna watched them go, they'd decided it was far too hard waking her up for anything, and unanimously decided she'd be the one to take first watches. The Dalish didn't mind, it was nice having some quiet time without everyone bustling around her and her mind not fizzled by sleep. She expected, like the last few nights, that Zevran would bid her a good night and retreat to his own tent, not like before when he'd stay with her to chat.

Mythal, this was your domain as well, was it not, goddess of love? But then, no, that wasn't what Zevran wanted. What did he want, besides the obvious? Was that all to it? To think, Lyna had once thought the assassin's motives clear cut. More thanks to Morrigan for putting thoughts into her head; it _wasn't_ hard to guess she was attracted to him, did that mean it was obvious that she was? Did everyone know aside from her? How could they, when she didn't even know.

It was just so frustrating. If she could bang her head against something, she would.

She tried to order what she knew of him in her mind. There were so many shades to Zevran, some he showed openly, others he only seemed to share with her like their chats at camp and that night before under the canopy of leaves. Few things stood out because they blended together in such perfect hues it was hard to pick out one form another. The only thing that struck cleanly in her mind was something he had said, he never expected joy in his life and that was the only reason he found any at all.

He had come to the conclusion that he'd been asking too much of her, he had told her as much that night before Alistair had bumbled in. This was his solution, to pull back, to let things come to him as he used to. Could Lyna do that? She'd been more than happy to let him have his way- too happy, maybe. She never stopped to think for herself, not for long anyway, if this was what she really desired, what with all the hang-ups an elf who killed for money and was ruled by a prickly bunch of cutthroats who would kill him for reputation's sake alone. _Morrigan,_ she thought bitterly, and yet she had to thank the witch in the same breath she cursed her, if not for her… Lyna sighed and again her mind flickered, was the obvious all he wanted? Could she live with that, if it was true?

It was up to her, in the end. First, however, she needed to find her own confidence she couldn't let him take the lead any more. The path had been shown and she knew just how far she was willing to go, it was up to her to walk that road again.

Lyna sighed.

"Zevran-" She asked, stuttered really, suddenly when he walked by. He liked it when she called him Zev; there was a subtle lightness to his face when she did. She saw it flash now, but it was gone the moment her words hit the second syllable, his disappointment hidden well she would have missed it if she hadn't been watching. She dug for something anything her mind on harder topics that she just couldn't begin to articulate. The dinner topic came to mind and she rambled on without thinking. "… When you were talking with Alistair…"

She paused, searching for words, always trying not to sound rude in her innocent ignorance.

What delight when he came to sit by her, as if nothing had changed between them. Give me time, she begged silently, she'd figure out where she stood, be damned what Morrigan said it was worth taking the effort, and she would find her own courage, eventually. "You are wondering if I was pulling the wool over our dear Templar's eyes."

Her mind elsewhere, she wasn't so sure what they were even talking about that that point. "Uhh, something like that?"

He laughed, deep in his chest a wide smile on his face, it made her smile too. "I was being quite truthful. If there is a Maker, I would very much like not to be left in the void for all eternity, and if there is not, there is no harm in a prayer or two."

Lyna agreed, in a way. It wasn't as if her own gods were present to answer their pleas, but the Dalish prayed to them anyway, invoked their names and lived by the words they could find, making a show of devotion on the off chance their gods were real and would one day be freed from their imprisonment. If they did come, the Dalish could dance up to them like happy children who had done something _so_ good to children eyes. _Look, look, look at what we've done; are you not proud of us?_ They would cry. Lyna snorted at the thought, but was all so guilty of it too. She didn't want to be left to wander the world, trapped from rest beyond the veil, if in fact Falon'din did guide the dead as the Dalish claimed.

"What of you? Do the Dalish pray?"

The wild-elf nodded slowly. "We… do. Kind of. There's no formality to it though, more of a meditation, a spiritual thing. Any real prayers have been lost to time, but we revere the earth, the sun; they are the mother and father of our gods. The forests are sacred too, the trees, because they were the first of the gifts given to Elgar'nan."

"It explains the city-elf custom of the _vhenadahl,_" he replied thoughtfully.

Lyna frowned. "Tree… of the people?"

"_Si,_ most alienages host a massive tree. It may have been a symbol of _Arlathan_, though most elves have forgotten if this is truth, or so I'm told." He shifted slightly more comfortable sitting with her. "Depending on where you go, it is in varying states of abuse, some have even cut it down. Although some others still treat it well, decorate it with colored cloths and the like."

Green eyes blinked in confusion she'd yet to see an actual Alienage, the towns they had visited so far were not large enough to house one. Although it did not escape her notice that any elves lived far from the center of those villages and far from any safety a village might offer. "Is that what they've done in Antiva?"

Zevran shrugged, nonchalant. "I wouldn't know. I tend to avoid the Alienages when I can."

"You don't live there? I thought… humm…" The Dalish bit her lip, but the city-elf only smirked.

"That is true, and do not be so surprised when you see one by how much disarray it is in. Most do chose to stay for their own protection and for a sense of comradely, but no, as a Crow, I do not live there or anywhere for that matter. We belong to our masters and there for are not permitted to own anything of value ourselves." He motioned to the closed flap of his tent with his chin and her eyes drifted in that direction. "Everything I own is what is within, or is already on my person."

Lyna cleared her throat, thinking on his words and trying not to frown. "So what do you do when you-"

"Have someone to share a bed with and don't have one of my own?" He smirked and chuckled watching her face shade pink. It wasn't exactly what she was thinking; her mind was still paying in the realms of innocence. How he enjoyed making her face color. "Why, I go to theirs, of course."

"Z-Zev-" She stuttered uselessly and let out the breath she had sucked in, almost like she was giving up being embarrassed, though her face didn't un-pink, she rolled her eyes. "And if you _don't_ have a convenient bed partner?"

"When do I not?" The roguish smile pinched the tattoo on his face.

"_Zev_."

He laughed aloud at her deadpanned-tone. "The guild supplies rooms for those without the coin for an inn, simple."

"This guild… they're the ones that handle the… contracts, right? And they pass them along to you? H-How does this work?"

"Mm, something like that. _Vedi_, when the masters receive a contract, they decided if it's worth our time and then it is posted for all to see. We, that is, those of us who are Crows and there for do all the work place a bid- we agree to pay the guild a portion of whatever coin was offered in the contract. The one that agrees to give the most are the ones who are given the contract. Funny enough, the masters rarely accept contracts outside of Antiva."

"Mm, that reminds me, you told me you'd never left home before. What made you accept a contract that had you traveling all the way down here to Ferelden?"

"Mm, that is a long story." He took a breath, pondering the thought. There was sorrow in that story, it was written too plain on his face and she wondered if he let her see that for the sake of an explanation, one better than he could form with words. "But... no, I... I would rather not..."

"It's okay." Lyna said reflexively. She would listen if he wanted to tell, but she wouldn't force it from him, that is where she stood. He thanked her silently, sitting by her. Despite the heaviness of his words, Lyna found the silence to be companionable, listening to the crickets chirp in the dark. Finally, the assassin stood, stretching out his back. Lyna might have stared, just for a second. She was remembering that tattoo that crossed his chest and slipped down, and found herself wondering just how far it would go.

Damn it, he must be doing this on purpose.

She bit her lip, looking away. If she thought about it, she'd lose her nerve, so she talked without thinking. "Hey... about-"

"No need, my dear warden." He smirked lightly; the elf could smell impure thoughts a mile away. "As I've said before, there are better ways to apologize and I am a patient man- to an _extent_."

* * *

"Morrigan, reconsider, please."

The witch huffed crossing her arms over her chest. "I will not. I have no desire to stay in a filthy inn and your mindless pleading is only exacerbating me."

"Morrigan," Lyna sighed again. "I need you there. Getting drunk with Alistair turns my brain to mush, Wynne likes to badger me about my duties as a warden and Zevran is… well, Zevran. I need someone _intelligent _to speak with."

In actuality, it had simply taken far too long to _find_ the swamp witch the last time they'd parted ways at a town, and they were rather pressed for times as it was. Lyna did not want to listen to another half a day of Alistair grumbling that they should take off now and leave the apostate far behind. They needed Morrigan more than Morrigan needed them that was to be sure. Lyna felt like she was juggling too many half concealed truths for her own good, how did anyone do this regularly?

"…if you insist." The witch replied with a sigh and a roll of her eyes. Lyna was surprised that had worked, who knew Morrigan could be buttered up with compliments. The Dalish would have to keep that knowledge to herself, the others, she was sure would abuse such information, but most of all it was the only thing Lyna had found that would sway the woman.

The inn wasn't like the last one they'd stayed at. The town as whole was on edge from the imminent invasion of the darkspawn, and they learned from overhearing a conversation that a civil war was brewing over Loghain's forceful takeover of the throne. It seemed not everyone was happy with him, and it gave Lyna a small mesure of hope for these people for not falling in line behind the murderer.

The innkeeper eyed them warily when they entered, especially her and Zevran, obviously not one who tolerated elves. Still, he wasn't one to turn away so much coin away. The food wasn't as good as before; the beef was stringy and overcooked and the vegetables were soggy. It was almost as bad as Alistair's cooking, he wasn't kidding when he said it was a Ferelden specialty. Morrigan gave her a dirty look and Lyna could only shrug. She should have joined them in the first inn when she had the chance.

The atmosphere was as lively as it could be lacking the conglomerate of minstrels from before; those with any sense of self-preservation had begun the long trip to Denerim when Zevran suddenly cried. "Truth or dare, it is a game of my Antiva. We should play."

"Wait a moment," Alistair said snuffing the elf's good mood in an instant, but only to those who would notice. "It's not from Antiva. I've played truth or dare in the chantry."

Zevran shrugged, his unbothered façade in place. "Ah, whatever."

"Utterly childish." Wynne grumbled sipping her wine delicately.

"Inane." Morrigan agreed, the first and only time the apostate and circle mage would ever agree to something. The two passed a funny look between one another, and then resolved to pretend it never happened.

"We have better things to be doing, don't you think?" Wynne continued, turning her attention back to Zevran.

"Oh come now Wynne, a little fun never hurt anyone. _No per mucho madrugar amanece más temprano._" He tapped a finger against the tankard in thought. "Hum, I cannot think of a translation to this that would carry the same meaning."

"Coming from you, I doubt I want to know."

"My darling Wynne, you think so low of me. I am innocent of the things you are thinking, this I swear."

"That remains to be seen, explain your game, I am sure there are those of us here that do not know how to play." Her eyes flickered to the Dalish, who only now looked up.

"Huh? A game?" Lyna asked piecing together the bits of the conversation her scattered mind had managed to retain. She'd been attempting to try whatever passed as alcohol and had decided she didn't like it enough to keep drinking. Nope, she missed the name completely; it would probably come up again later, if she could manage to catch it. "Never heard of it, what do we do?"

"It is quite simple. There are two choices, truth or dare, as the name suggests," Ah, there was the name, and Lyna didn't have to feel the fool for asking. "The person who is 'it' asks whom every they decide this and _they_ must pick one or the other. Dare is rather strength forward, you must do whatever is commanded of you without question. Truth is a question you must answer, well truthfully."

"Ground rule:" Leliana added with a raised eye. "No one has to do what Zevran says."

"Santo cazzo di _madre_." The assassin huffed, crossing his arms. "Fine, if you do not wish to play fair you do not have to. I am sure the others are more willing to humor me."

"What is Santo-" Wynne nearly clamped a hand over the young warden's mouth.

"We'll tell you when you're older, dear." Lyna glared at the elder mage, tapping her fingers against the table and trying very hard not to act childish, and failing miserably.

"Saint-" Lyna began, to a warning glare from the motherly mage, but the rebellious spirit was in her and she plowed on hotly. "Something- something- mother. Saint mother … of something? So, what's cazzo?"

Zevran broke into laughter, motioning to Alistiar to pass him the bottle of whatever they were drinking. "I might as well tell her Wynne, she's already guessed most of it."

"I'm surprised you only want to tell her and not only show her what with all the saucy glances you keep giving her." Lyna tried her best to not look embarrassed, not in front of everyone. It was a losing battle she was sure, the more she thought about it the more she felt her face heat. She couldn't even look at anyone, damn them, damn them all to the void. "Ironic that you're all talk and no action."

It was like poking a beehive, and Zevran was never one to _not _rise to a challenge. He leaned across the table a smile as sly as a fox. "I can show you action if you prefer, Wynne."

"Egad, what was I thinking?" Wynne groaned, her palm pressed against Zevran's forehead pushing him back into his seat, her action far too gentle for her words of, "Away with you."

"Oh." Lyna commented with a wily smile, hiding her embarrassment behind her own façade. "That's what it means."

"Weren't we about to play a game? That sounds like a _much_ better idea right now." Alistair coughed, loudly. "Does everyone understand the rules?"

"Reasonable." Sten mumbled quietly from his seat off to the side. It was the first thing he'd said all night. "Either you answer a question or follow an order."

The senior warden nodded in agreement. "You seem to get it Sten, let's start with you. Ask me truth or dare."

The Qunari frowned, or that might have been his normal face. "… truth or dare."

Alistair didn't even stop to think. "I pick truth."

"At what temperate does water boil."

The man sighed, slightly exasperated. "No, no. You have to pick a question that's personal, not a universal truth."

"Fine." The bronze giant grumbled. The novelty of the game was lost on him; it didn't have a purpose if it didn't test one's knowledge. "…What color are your socks."

"White or they were when this whole thing began." Alistair rolled his eyes at the collection of disgusted looks tossed his way. "Moving on. Leliana, truth or dare?"

"Alright then," She said, "For the sake of demonstration I'll pick Dare."

Alistair grinned, trying to match Zevran's level of cheekiness and failing miserable. "I dare you to hug Sten."

Leliana paled just a bit. "I don't think I'm quite drunk enough for that."

Sten growled to make Falonel proud. "Does this accomplish anything?"

Alastair wasn't fazed. "It accomplishes making us laugh."

"Public displaces of affection are not tolerated in Qunari society."

"This is Ferelden. You have to play by the rules we've set," Alistair was getting wise with whatever was in that bottle, Lyna thought.

"…Fine," Sten said.

"Aww, your just a big softy, aren't you?" Leliana gave a laugh and stood up, walking to the other side of the table to give the Qunari a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

"Strange."

With a giggle Leliana sat back down. "Alright, my turn. Lyna, truth or dare."

The Dalish blinked, not thinking she'd be picked so soon. "Truth?"

Leliana had a grin as wide as the Cheshire cat, "Do you like boys or girls?"

"I like… both..?" she replied, slowly.

The bard huffed, her elbows tapping the table. "No, I mean _like_ like."

"I… _like_ like both..? I'm so confused," Lyna groaned. She was sure she wasn't getting something.

"My dear woman, she does not understand your question." He turned to Lyna, his hands moving more than his lips as he spoke. "She means who do you fancy, men or women. Or both, as you've said."

When it was finally clear what she meant, Lyna turned to her cup, pretending to be far more interested in its contents then answering. "… I'm not drunk enough for this question."

Alistair barked a laugh and Lyna forgot that she didn't like the taste of whatever they were passing around and made a sour face, putting the tankard down and pushing it away. "Doesn't matter, you picked truth!"

"Egad, fine," Lyna rolled her eyes at it. "Can't say I've never thought too hard on the subject, so the easy answer is men."

Zevran raised an eye at words. "I did not think the Dalish looked down on such a thing."

"We don't, as far as I can say, but you've seen how different clans can be. It's just not common. At least, I never saw it in my clan." Lyna shrugged. Course, she heard of same sex relationships, but it had never been something that was close to her and she was happy to shrug it off and say to each their own. "Okay so it's my turn. Who do I ask?"

Leliana hummed prettily. "Pick someone who hasn't answered yet."

"Okay," Her eyes swept the group, not sure who to pick. There was the obvious, the ones who she wouldn't even know what to make do or say. Couldn't she just pass somehow? Lyna locked eyes with the swamp witch, trying not to smile. "Morrigan? Truth or dare."

"Dare."

"Oh great, I have to think of something now…" The Dalish blew the bangs out of her face, course they fell right back into place. "Umm… I bet your hair is really pretty if it down. Wear it down the rest of the night."

The swamp witch spat at her a contemptuous look, but the rules of the game were finite and with a frustrated growl Morrigan pulled out the tie that kept her hair and place and gave the raven colored locks a quick shake.

"E esto?" Zevran said with a sly smile, following the trail those ink-like threads carved down to her breasts. They frame her ivory skin and make her golden-cat eyes shine in the dim light. "Ah, that is a good act, but you, O Magical Temptress, are very much aware of the beauty you possess. No need for such fanfare."

The young warden stared down at her cup quietly. By the gods, it only took one little action to make her feel so damn inferior, but that was how things worked didn't it? She tried not to let it get to her, but there wasn't much to keep her mind distracted from the thoughts. _Move on_, she thought bitterly. Lyna endeavored to keep a straight face for the remainder of the game, thankful that the attention had been taken off her.

"Alistair," Morrigan smirked.

"Dare, Morrigan. Your worst."

The witch didn't even stop to think, she had been planning it from the moment Lyna made eye contact. The Dalish was sure she was going to do something embarrassing to the man, but even Lyna wasn't prepared for the command. "Go kiss the innkeeper."

For his part, Alistair stood without a word and walked over to the man behind the counter. They spoke, but with the noise of the tavern even the elves had a hard time picking out proper words. Alistair motioned to their table, probably explaining everything, ever the knight, and made a move like he was leaning in. The keep reacted instantly by smashing his fist into Alistair's face. The wounded warrior came back his cheek and eye already beginning to bruise. "Wouldn't let me, got a black eye instead, good enough?"

"Superb." Morrigan replied with a wicked smile.

Zevran snorted his mirth through his nose. "Living in the chantry hasn't prepared you for the wide world, has it? I could always give you pointers, if you wish."

"I'll pass on that," Alistair replied rolling his one good eye. "But it's your turn Zevran, and I'm not giving you a choice because you've already told us all the truths we can handle. Go steal some more alcohol from storage for us, the good kind, and _try_ not to get caught."

The assassin only chuckled. "You have so little faith. I'll only be but a moment."

Quick as a flash the elf was gone. Wynne tried looking over Alistair's face, but she could do little aside keep the swelling down, the color would persist for a few days. Moments later Zevran was back, three bottles in hand. "This one is for Wynne who enjoys a fine wine."

The mage was a little shocked and at the same time weary. "I hope there isn't something behind this gesture of yours."

"You wound me, as I've said before I am innocent of those malicious thoughts you have of me, but if you do not want it..."

Wynne shook her head, taking the bottle in the same motion. "No, no. If I don't drink it, you will, and that will end with more agony thrust my way."

"Thrust. I like the way you think."

"Gah!" Wynne gasped, nearly choking on the glass of wine she'd poured herself.

"Sorry, sorry, you walked into that one, I couldn't resist." Zevran laughed heartily, the next bottle tapping the top of the table.

"I also brought this," He said pouring a cup from a much smaller bottle and handing it to Lyna. "Try it; I think you'll enjoy it better than the ale they're serving."

Lyna was pleasantly surprised by the taste. It had a chirps taste, and not at all strong with liquor. "Mm, what is it?"

"A type of cider, though not one made in Ferelden. I thought you'd enjoy it. More to the taste of your Dalish spirits, no?" Lyna nodded in reply. Had it been Zevran that had brought her back to her tent those few nights ago? It wasn't that such a gesture was beyond him, only she'd think he'd had been more boastful about it.

"And the last one is for Alistair, something that might actually test that Warden resistance you seem to have. Careful though, I've seen you passed out drunk, you do not make a pretty sight." Alistair grunted a reply but took the bottle and drank anyway. That had answered Lyna's question, she had fallen asleep right next to the man.

Gifts dulled out Zevran leaned back into his set, touching the tips of his fingers in thought. "My darling Wynne you are all that is left, truth or dare."

This time the mage was prepared and spun the wine in the cup in her hand with an air of nobility. "Don't try to trick me with your innocent act; I know what you're thinking, and it won't work. Truth."

Zevran sighed, good-naturedly. "Tsk, spoil all my fun with your magical bosom."

"Stop talking about my bosom."

"Fine, fine." He leaned forward, resting his chin on top of his fingers as he spoke. "Is it true that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top floor of their tower and, naked under the stars, make love to each other?"

"What? Maker's breathe no!" Wynne snorted, but had seen something along those lines coming. "Where have you heard such a thing?"

"Oh," He said with a sly smile. "I found out recently that it was not true in Antiva and hoped that it would be in Ferelden. Alas."

Alistair stood, "Well, I'm done; I think a black eye is enough fun for one night. G'night everyone."

Most everyone agreed and they packed up the evening meal and began heading up the steps to their rented rooms. At the bottom of the stairs, having hung back an extra second Zevran grabbed Lyna's arm, pulling her close to whisper in her ear. "You seem to be rather skilled with words, why not try this one; _Per me estás sin confrontare_."

He smirked as her brow nit in almost instant frustration. "I can't make out a word of that, what does it mean?"

"Mm, you'll have to be just as patient as I am if you wish for that answer. Or not patient at all, the choice is yours." He told her already climbing the stairs. "Have a good night, Warden."

* * *

Antivan;  
No per mucho madrugar amanece más temprano (_Spanish/slight butchery_); _No matter how early you get up, you can't make the sun rise any sooner.  
(Stanley Kubrick's version of 'all work and no play makes jack a dull boy' in Spanish, I just _had_ to.)  
_Per me estás sin confrontare._(butchery); Zevran will tell you later, or you can attempt to look it up yourself ;)_

_Lyna means Eau-du-vie, when she talks of the Orlias word and technically, the Dalish Honey Whiskey is either schnapps (pardon me, specifically _American_ schnapps), or a liquor, going by Alistair's (and Zevran's) mention of it being syrupy. :P_


End file.
